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 THE LOYALIST
 
 THE LOYALIST 
 
 A Story of the 
 American Revolution 
 
 BY 
 
 JAMES FRANCIS BARRETT 
 
 P. J. KENEDY & SONS 
 
 NEW YORK
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1920, BY 
 P. J. KENEDY & SONS, NEW YORK 
 
 Printed in U. S. A*
 
 TO 
 
 MY SISTER 
 
 AS A SLIGHT TOKEN OF 
 LOVE AND ESTEEM 
 
 2134356
 
 FOREWORD 
 
 Historical facts constitute the background of this 
 story. Its hero and its heroine are, of course, fictitious ; 
 but the deportment of General Arnold, the Shippen 
 family, the several military and civic personages 
 throughout the story is described, for the most part, 
 accurately and in conformity with the sober truths of 
 history. Pains have been taken to depict the various 
 historical episodes which enter into the story such as 
 the attempted formation of the Regiment of Roman 
 Catholic Volunteers, the court-martial of Major 
 General Arnold, the Military Mass on the occasion of 
 the anniversary of American Independence with as 
 much fidelity to truth as possible. The anti-Catholic 
 sentences, employed in the reprimand of Captain 
 Meagher, are anachronisms; they are identical, how- 
 ever, with utterances made in the later life of Benedict 
 Arnold. The influence of Peggy Shippen upon her 
 husband is vouched for by eminent authority. 
 
 Due appreciation and sincere gratitude must be 
 expressed to those authors from whom much informa- 
 tion have been taken, to John Gilmary Shea, in his 
 "History of the Catholic Church in the United States"; 
 to Martin I. J. Griffin's "Catholics and the American 
 Revolution"; to F. J. Stimson's excellent work, 
 "Memoirs of Benedict Arnold"; to John Fiske's 
 "American Revolution," and to the many other works 
 which have freely been made use of in the course of
 
 FOREWORD 
 
 this writing. Cordial thanks are also due to those who 
 have generously assisted by suggestions and criticisms, 
 and especially to those who have devoted their valuable 
 moments to the revision of the proof sheets. 
 
 J. F. B.
 
 PART ONE
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 "Please continue, Peggy. You were telling me who 
 were there and what they wore. Oh, dear! I am so 
 sorry mother would not give me leave to go. Was it 
 all too gay?" 
 
 "It was wonderful!" was the deliberate reply. "We 
 might have danced till now had not Washington 
 planned that sudden attack. We had to leave then, 
 that was early this morning, and I spent the day 
 abed." 
 
 It was now well into the evening and the two girls 
 had been seated for the longest time, it seemed, on the 
 small sofa which flanked the east wall of the parlor. 
 The dusk, which had begun to grow thick and fast 
 when Marjorie had come to visit Peggy, was now quite 
 absorbed into darkness; still the girls had not lighted 
 the candles, choosing to remain in the dark until the 
 story of the wonderful experience of the preceding day 
 had been entirely related. 
 
 The grand pageant and mock tournament, the cele- 
 brated Mischienza, arranged in honor of General 
 Howe, who had resigned his office as Commander-in- 
 chief of His Majesty's forces in America to return to
 
 2 THE LOYALIST 
 
 England, there to defend himself against his enemies 
 in person, as General Burgoyne was now doing from 
 his seat in Parliament, was an event long to be re- 
 membered not alone from the extravagance of its dis- 
 play, but from the peculiar prominence it afforded the 
 foremost families of the city, particularly that of the 
 Shippens. 
 
 Edward Shippen was a gentleman of rank, of char- 
 acter, of fortune, a member of one of the oldest and 
 most respected families in the city of Philadelphia, 
 whose ancestor, of the same name, had been Mayor 
 of the city nigh an hundred years before. He belonged 
 to the Society of Friends, or Quakers, and while he 
 took no active interest on either side during the years 
 of the war, still he was generally regarded as one of 
 the sympathizers of the Crown. Because of the social 
 eminence which the family enjoyed and the brilliance 
 and genial hospitality which distinguished their af- 
 fairs, the Shippens were considered the undisputed 
 leaders of the social set of Philadelphia. The three 
 lovely Misses Shippen were the belles of the more 
 aristocratic class. They were toasted frequently by 
 the gay English officers during the days of the British 
 occupation, for their father's house was often the 
 rendezvous of the titled celebrities of the day. 
 
 "And was your Captain there, too?" continued Mar- 
 jorie, referring, of course, to Captain Monstresor, the 
 engineer of the undertaking, an erstwhile admirer of 
 Mistress Peggy. 
 
 "You must know, my dear, that he arranged the 
 spectacle. I saw little of him until the dance. In 
 truth, he seemed more popular than General Howe 
 himself." 
 
 Marjorie sat up.
 
 THE LOYALIST 3 
 
 "Tell mel Did the tournament begin the pro- 
 gram?" 
 
 "No!" replied Peggy. "The military procession of 
 boats and barges with Lords Howe and Rawdon, Gen- 
 eral Howe and General Clinton, opened the event in 
 the late morning, sailing up the river to the Wharton 
 House, the scene of the tournament." 
 
 Marjorie nodded. 
 
 "The noise of the guns was deafening. When the 
 flotilla arrived at Walnut Grove, which was lined with 
 troops and bedecked brilliantly with flags and bunting, 
 the pageant opened." 
 
 "Where were you in the meantime?" asked Mar- 
 jorie, careful to lose no detail. 
 
 "We were seated in the pavilions, seven ladies in 
 each, clothed in Turkish garments, each wearing in 
 her turban the favor to be bestowed on her victorious 
 knight." 
 
 "And who was your knight?" 
 
 "The Honorable Captain Cathcart," quickly replied 
 Peggy, her eyes beaming with a smile of evident satis- 
 faction and proud joy. 
 
 "Lord Cathcart, whom I met here?" 
 
 "The same," answered Peggy. "He was the leader 
 of the 'Knights of the Blended Rose.' " 
 
 "What an odd name!" she exclaimed. 
 
 "I know it. They were named after their device. 
 They were dressed in white and red silk, mounted on 
 gray horses and attended by esquires. They were pre- 
 ceded by a herald who bore their device, two roses 
 intertwined above the motto, 'We droop when sep- 
 arated.' My knight rode at the head, attended by two 
 British Officers, and his two esquires, the one bearing 
 his lance, the other his shield emblazoned with his
 
 4 THE LOYALIST 
 
 device Cupid astride a lion over the motto, 'Sur- 
 rounded by love.' ' 
 
 "You little Tory," interrupted Marjorie. "I shall 
 tell General Washington that you are disloyal and 
 have lent your sympathy to a British Officer." 
 
 "I care little. The Yankees are without refine- 
 ment " 
 
 "Don't you dare say that," snapped Marjorie, her 
 whole being animated with sudden anger. "It is un- 
 true and you know it. They are patriots and " 
 
 "Forgive me, dear," murmured Peggy, laying her 
 hand on the arm of her irate friend. "I said that only 
 in jest. I shan't continue if you are vexed." 
 
 There was silence. 
 
 "Please ! I am not angry," Marjorie pleaded. "Do 
 continue." 
 
 "I forget my story now. What did I tell? There 
 was so much that I am confused." 
 
 "The Knights of the Rose!" suggested Marjorie. 
 
 "Oh, yes ! Well, this body of knights made the cir- 
 cuit of the square and then saluted their ladies. On a 
 sudden, a herald advanced with a flourish of trumpets 
 and announced that the ladies of the Blended Rose 
 excelled in wit, beauty, grace, charm and accomplish- 
 ments those of the whole world and challenged a denial 
 by deeds of arms. Whereupon a counter sound of 
 trumpets was heard from afar and another herald 
 galloped before a body of knights in black and orange 
 silk with the device a wreath of flowers surrounding 
 a burning heart over the motto, 'Love and Glory.' 
 These were the Knights of the Burning Mountain, who 
 came to dispute the claim of the Knights of the 
 Blended Rose."
 
 THE LOYALIST 5 
 
 "It must have been gorgeous !" exclaimed Marjorie, 
 clasping her hands before her. 
 
 "Indeed it was. Well, after several preliminaries, 
 the encounter took place, the knights receiving their 
 lances together with their shields from their esquires, 
 whereupon they saluted and encountered at full speed, 
 shivering their spears against the shield of their adver- 
 saries. They next encountered and discharged their 
 pistols and then fought with swords. Again the two 
 chiefs of the warring factions, Captain Cathcart of 
 the Blended Rose and Captain Watson of the Burning 
 Mountain, met in mid field to try their arms as cham- 
 pions of their respective parties. They parried and 
 thrust with true knightly valor until Major Grayson, 
 as marshal of the field, intervened at the critical mo- 
 ment, declaring the ladies of both parties to be fully 
 satisfied with the proofs of love and the feats of valor 
 displayed by their knights. He then commanded the 
 combatants to desist. Thus ended the tournament." 
 
 "How wonderful!" sighed Marjorie. "I would I 
 had been present. And your knight was the hero?" 
 
 "Of course," replied Peggy with a smile. "I am 
 sure that he would have worsted Captain Watson, had 
 not the Major stepped in. But the banquet was 
 splendid." 
 
 "And Captain Cathcart!" reminded Marjorie, with 
 a slight manifestation of instinctive envy. 
 
 "Why! He attended me, of course," was the proud 
 response. "Each knight escorted his lady through the 
 triumphal arches erected in honor of the Generals who 
 were present, along the long avenue lined on both sides 
 with the troops and the colors of the army. At the 
 third arch, which was dedicated to General Howe and 
 which bore on its top a huge flying figure of Fame, we
 
 6 THE LOYALIST 
 
 entered the great Hall. There refreshments were 
 served and the dancing began. It continued until mid- 
 night. The windows were then thrown open and we 
 witnessed the wonderful display of fireworks. And 
 then the supper! 
 
 "Gorgeous, of course!" exclaimed Marjorie. 
 
 "Gorgeous, indeed!" Peggy repeated "a great 
 room, with fifty or more pier glasses, draped with 
 green silk and hundreds of varieties of flowers of as 
 many hues and shades. An hundred branches of lights, 
 thousands of tapers, four hundred and thirty covers, 
 and there must have been more than twelve hundred 
 dishes. The attendants were twenty-four black slaves 
 garbed oriental fashion with silver collars and brace- 
 lets. And then we danced and danced until dawn, 
 when we were interrupted by the sound of distant 
 cannon." 
 
 "And then your knights were called to real war," 
 remarked Marjorie. 
 
 "For the moment all thought this to be part of the 
 program, the signal for another great spectacle. Sud- 
 denly everything broke into confusion. The officers 
 rushed to their commands. The rest of us betook 
 ourselves as best we could. We came home and went 
 to bed, tired in every bone. Mother is sorry that 
 I attended, for she thought it too gay. But I would 
 not have lost it for the world." 
 
 And perhaps her mother was right. For Peggy was 
 but eighteen, the youngest of the Shippen family. The 
 other girls were somewhat older, yet the three were 
 considered the most beautiful debutantes of the city, 
 the youngest, if in anything, the more renowned for 
 grace and manner. Her face was of that plumpness 
 to give it charm, delicate in contour, rich with the
 
 THE LOYALIST 7 
 
 freshness of the bloom of youth. Her carriage be- 
 trayed breeding and dignity. And all was sweetened 
 by a magnetism and vivacity that charmed all who 
 came within her influence. Still her attitude was the 
 more prepossessing than permanent. 
 
 Like her father, she was a Quaker in many of her 
 observances. To that creed she adhered with a rigor- 
 ous determination. She had so often manifested her 
 political sympathies, which were intensified to an irra- 
 tional degree as appeared from passionate disclosures, 
 that her father was led to observe that she was more a 
 Tory at heart than General Howe himself. 
 
 Her companion, Marjorie Allison, was about her 
 own age, but as intensely American as she was English. 
 Her parents had always lived in Philadelphia, as their 
 parents had before them, coming originally from the 
 Mother country to which they were now opposed in 
 martial strife. The thrill of patriotism for the cause 
 of the infant republic, which throbbed violently within 
 her breast, had been inspired to enthusiasm more by 
 the intense antipathy for the Church of England than 
 for the government itself. This antipathy was kept 
 alive and invigorated by the doleful memory of the 
 privations and adversities endured by her ancestors 
 from the agents of this same government because of 
 their Catholic worship and their heroic efforts to fol- 
 low their religious convictions. 
 
 The sympathies of the Allisons were undivided. 
 They were notorious Whigs, ardent champions of the 
 rights which the new government so strongly asserted, 
 and which they had pledged themselves stoutly to de- 
 fend; ardent champions of the eternal principles on 
 which the new republic was built. The psychology of 
 the Allisons' allegiance did not differ from that of
 
 8 THE LOYALIST 
 
 innumerable other families. Usually, strange to re- 
 late, society, while constantly moving forward with 
 eager speed, is just as constantly looking backward 
 with tender regrets. But no regrets were here. Re- 
 ligious persecution leaves no tender memories in its 
 trail. Dissatisfaction with the past is seldom rendered 
 more memorable than by the fanatic attempt to sepa- 
 rate the soul from its God. 
 
 Marjorie and Peggy had been friends from girl- 
 hood. They understood each other very well. Each 
 knew and appreciated the other's peculiarities, her 
 virtues and her foibles, her political propensities and 
 religious convictions. They never discussed their re- 
 ligious differences. They avoided such a clash out of 
 respect for each other's convictions. Not so, however, 
 in matters relating to the form of government. Mar- 
 jorie was a Whig, an ardent champion of the rights 
 of the Colonists, while her more aristocratic friend 
 was Tory in her sentiments, moderate, it is true, but 
 nevertheless at times much inclined to the extreme. 
 Notwithstanding these differences, their friendship had 
 been constant and they had always shared their joys 
 and sorrows. 
 
 The days of the British occupation of the city had 
 been glorious ones for Peggy and her sisters. The 
 love of display and finery which was characteristic of 
 them was satiated by the brilliance and the gayety of 
 the winter season during which the titled British Offi- 
 cers were feted and entertained extravagantly. None 
 outshone the Shippens in the magnificence of their 
 entertainments. Their house was ever open in hos- 
 pitality, and more than once it had been whispered 
 about that their resources had reached the point of 
 exhaustion.
 
 THE LOYALIST 9 
 
 At these functions Marjorie found herself a wel- 
 come guest. For Peggy took care that her little friend 
 was never overlooked, even if on one occasion a pang 
 of regret sent her to bed with copious tears when the 
 favor for the evening had been bestowed upon her fair 
 guest. Marjorie, however, maintained a mature com- 
 posure and a marked concern, as was her wont, 
 throughout it all, and Peggy again reassured herself 
 that her misgivings were without foundation. For 
 Marjorie disliked the titled gentry. They were with- 
 out exception hostile to the faith to which she so stead- 
 fastly adhered. She bore with them merely for the 
 pleasure which she derived from the coterie made bril- 
 liant by their participation. 
 
 And so the winter passed, giving way to lovely. 
 spring, whose gentle zephyrs dispelled the cold, the 
 ice and the snow that had sent the British into the ball- 
 rooms for protection, and had afflicted and distressed 
 the patriots at Valley Forge. With the advent of 
 favorable weather, operations began anew; the hopes 
 and the courage of the colonists were now exalted to 
 the highest pitch. The disasters of Long Island and 
 Fort Washington had been offset by the victory at 
 Saratoga. While the British had taken and held the 
 important cities of New York and Philadelphia as well 
 as the town of Newport, still they had lost an army 
 and had gained nothing but the ground on which they 
 were encamped. 
 
 Now, at the beginning of the fourth period of the 
 war, the joyful news was heralded far and wide that 
 the government of France had formally acknowledged 
 the independence of the United States and that help 
 was on the way to assist the Colonists in their struggle. 
 At the same time the conciliatory measures of Lord
 
 io THE LOYALIST 
 
 North in Parliament gave indication to the patriots 
 that the British Government was weakening. The joy 
 of the Whigs knew no bounds, and Marjorie was be- 
 side herself as she related the glad tidings over and 
 over again. The fourth epoch of the war augured 
 well for the success of the cause. 
 
 II 
 
 In all the Colonies there was at this stage of the war 
 no city more important than Philadelphia. Whatever 
 there was among the Colonists of wealth, of comfort, 
 of social refinement, of culture and of courtly manners 
 was here centered. Even the houses were more im- 
 posing than elsewhere throughout the country. They 
 were usually well constructed of stone or brick with 
 either thatched or slated roofs. They were supplied 
 with barns bursting with the opalence of the fields. 
 The countryside round about was teeming with fatness. 
 Indeed, in all the colonies no other place was so replete 
 with affluence and comfort. 
 
 Nor was it without its gentry, cultured and dignified. 
 Its inhabitants were, for the most part, made up of 
 members of old Quaker families and others faithful 
 to the Church of England and devoted to the political 
 principles of the Mother country, the proud posses- 
 sors of wealth and the exemplars of the most dignified 
 deportment. Already were its fair sex renowned 
 abroad as well as at home for their "beauty, grace and 
 intelligence." They moved with all the gayety and 
 charm of court ladies. The wealth and luxury of a 
 capital city were there; for even in the infancy of the 
 republic, Philadelphia had attained a distinction, unique
 
 THE LOYALIST n 
 
 and preeminent. What was more natural, then, than 
 that their allegiance should be divided; the so-called 
 fashionable set adhering to the crown; the common 
 townsfolk, the majority of whom were refugees from 
 an obnoxious autocracy, zealously espousing the col- 
 onists' cause, and the middle class, who were comprised 
 of those families holding a more or less neutral posi- 
 tion in the war, and who were willing to preserve their 
 estates and possessions, remaining undecided, and in 
 their manner maintaining good offices with both sides 
 throughout the strife. 
 
 The British Army took possession of the city, after 
 its victorious encounter on the Brandywine, on the 
 twenty-sixth of September, 1777. Sir William Howe 
 selected for his headquarters the finest house in the 
 city, the mansion which was once the home of Gov- 
 ernor Richard Penn, grandson of William Penn. Here 
 General Howe and his staff of officers passed a gay 
 winter. They were much more interested in the amuse- 
 ments, the gayeties, the dissipations carried on in this 
 old Quaker City than in any efforts to capture the army 
 of General Washington. 
 
 The infatuate populace, indifferent to the progress 
 of the Revolution, unaffected for the most part by the 
 righteousness of the cause of the Colonists, became 
 enamored of the brilliance and the fashion and the 
 display of the English nobility. They cordially wel- 
 comed General Howe and his young officers, electing 
 them the leaders and the favorites in all the social 
 gayeties and amusements of the season. Such was the 
 luxury and dissipation of the British in the city, at 
 dinner parties, cock-fights, amateur theatrical perform- 
 ances, that Dr. Franklin was led to remark in Paris
 
 12 THE LOYALIST 
 
 that General Howe had not taken Philadelphia as 
 much as Philadelphia had taken General Howe. 
 
 The general plan of campaign for the year 1777 
 did not include the capture of Philadelphia. Howe 
 had been ordered to march from New York, which he 
 had taken the preceding August, to the vicinity of Al- 
 bany. There he was to join forces with the army from 
 Canada under General Burgoyne, which was to pene- 
 trate northern New York. Why he elected to march 
 against Philadelphia and be obliged to retrace his 
 steps in order to reach Burgoyne was unknown at the 
 time. The total collapse of Burgoyne's expedition at 
 Saratoga and the menace of the American Army under 
 General Washington obliged him to alter his plan and 
 to remain in the vicinity of Philadelphia, which city he 
 made his headquarters for the winter. 
 
 In the meantime the army of General Washington, 
 which had been continually harassing the English 
 forces, went into winter quarters in close proximity, 
 at Valley Forge, a bare twenty miles distant, northwest 
 of the city. Here the little army of the Colonists 
 menaced the position of the British while enduring 
 with heroic fortitude the severities of the winter sea- 
 son. Shoeless and shivering, the soldiers prepared 
 these winter quarters of cold huts, rudely constructed; 
 themselves overcoated in torn blankets, with stuffed 
 straw in their boots for want of stockings. Their food 
 was as scarce as their clothing and at one time more 
 than two thousand men were reported unfit for duty 
 because barefoot and otherwise naked. Many a night 
 the men were compelled to remain seated by the fire 
 for want of blankets. Day by day the supply of fuel 
 diminished, and the neighborhood became more desti- 
 tute of trees and timber.
 
 THE LOYALIST 13 
 
 The morale of the troops seemed to feed on mis- 
 fortune; but their hopes and courage were suddenly 
 intensified when the news of the Alliance with France 
 reverberated throughout the camp to the booming of 
 cannon and the shouts of the whole army. There was 
 no respite, however. While the enemy was living in 
 luxury and comfort in the gay city, the Continentals 
 under the patience of Washington, and the military 
 genius of Von Steuben, were being rounded into a 
 toughened and well drilled fighting machine, strong in 
 organization and bold in spirit, a worthy match for the 
 rapid and accurate movements for which the better 
 equipped British army was becoming famous. 
 
 That Sir William Howe found it easier to loiter in 
 Philadelphia than to play a strategic game against 
 Washington in the depths of an American winter, was 
 due no less to the want of decision which characterized 
 all of his actions than to the stupid mismanagement 
 with which the campaign of 1777 was directed. The 
 British had gained the two most important American 
 cities, New York and Philadelphia, but the entire 
 American army was still in the field. The acquisition 
 of territory was of no military importance while the 
 forces of the enemy remained intact and well organ- 
 ized. Moreover, Burgoyne was left to his fate and at 
 Saratoga an army was lost. 
 
 Nor was any advantage to be derived from the pos- 
 session of the American capital. Washington's posi- 
 tion at Valley Forge had held the British in check all 
 winter. And whatever of work the Congress was re- 
 quired to do could as well be done at York as at Phila- 
 delphia. As a basis for military operation the city 
 was without value, for it was difficult to defend and 
 hard to supply with foodstuffs. But it was rich, ex-
 
 i 4 THE LOYALIST 
 
 travagant, fashionable, a "place of crucifying ex- 
 penses," and its fine houses, good pavements, and reg- 
 ular arrangement of streets, impressed Howe as the 
 most fitting place for the British Army to establish 
 winter quarters. And so they sat down to wait for 
 spring. 
 
 Ill 
 
 "We shall never forget the splendor of it all; it was 
 wonderful!" exclaimed Peggy with a deep sigh. 
 
 "A farewell party!" said Marjorie. "Undoubtedly 
 the gallant Britishers outdid themselves. Howe leaves 
 soon, does he not?" 
 
 "Yes. Next week." 
 
 "Which means that the period of entertaining is 
 about to come to an end." 
 
 "I suppose. But wasn't the winter glorious? I 
 shall never forget it." 
 
 A smile covered her face, dotting her cheeks with 
 two tiny dimples. She held her hands together over 
 her knees while she sat quite motionless, her eyes look- 
 ing out into the darkness of the room. 
 
 Presently she bethought herself. 
 
 "Let us light the tapers!" she announced, jumping 
 up from the sofa. 
 
 "It is late," Marjorie remarked, as she, too, pre- 
 pared to arise. "I must leave for home." 
 
 "Stay! It is still early. Soon we shall be obliged 
 to settle into quietude. Dark days are before us." 
 
 "Why!" Marjorie exclaimed. "I should think 
 that the future augurs well. I do wish the soldiers 
 would evacuate the city."
 
 THE LOYALIST 15 
 
 "When General Howe leaves, all may as well leave 
 with him." 
 
 "When does he leave, did you say?" impatiently 
 asked her true American friend. 
 
 "Next week, I understand. The great Mischienza, 
 you know, was arranged in his honor as a farewell 
 celebration." 
 
 "General Clinton, I presume, will succeed. He 
 seems the most logical choice." 
 
 "Yes. He already has been appointed to the 
 supreme command." 
 
 "I hope he decides to evacuate." 
 
 "I do not know. Perhaps," was the sole response. 
 
 But it already had been decided. Upon the de- 
 parture of General Howe, instructions were forwarded 
 from the ministry to Sir Henry Clinton, the new Com- 
 mander-in-chief, to evacuate the city at once. The 
 imminent arrival of the French fleet, together with the 
 increasing menace of the Continental Army at Valley 
 Forge, constituted a grave peril to the isolated army 
 of the British. Hence it was determined that the 
 capital city must be abandoned. 
 
 Clinton intended to transfer his army to New York 
 by water in order that the bulk of his forces might be 
 concentrated for the spring campaign. On account of 
 the vast number of Tories who, apprehensive of their 
 personal effects, had begged to be transferred with 
 him, he was obliged to forego his original intention of 
 sailing by water in favor of a march overland. Ac- 
 cordingly on the morning of June 18, 1778, the rear- 
 guard of the British marched out of the city and on 
 that same afternoon the American advance entered 
 and took possession with Major General Benedict 
 Arnold, the hero of Saratoga, as Military Governor.
 
 16 THE LOYALIST 
 
 The joy of the Whig populace knew no bounds. No 
 longer would the shadows of dark despair and aban- 
 doned hope hang like a pall over the capital city. No 
 longer would the stately residences of the Tory ele- 
 ment be thrown open for the diversion and the junket 
 of the titled gentry. No more would the soldiery of 
 an hostile army loiter about the street corners or while 
 away the hours at the Taverns or at the Coffee Houses. 
 The Congress was about to return. The city would 
 again become the political as well as the civic center 
 of American affairs. The people would be ruled by a 
 governor of their own accord and sympathy. Phila- 
 delphia was to enter into its own.
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 "It won't do, I tell you. And the sooner he realizes 
 this the more satisfactory will it become for all con- 
 cerned." 
 
 "Sh-h-h," answered Mrs. Allison in a seemingly 
 heedless manner. She was seated by the side window 
 in her old rocker, intent only on her three needles and 
 the ball of black yarn. "Judge not, that you may not 
 be judged!" she reminded him. 
 
 "He is too imprudent. Only today he contemptu- 
 ously dismissed the Colonel and the secretary; later he 
 requested them to dine with him. We don't like it, I 
 tell you." 
 
 As a matter of fact, there was no more staunch 
 defender or constant advocate of the cause of the 
 Colonists than Matthew Allison himself; and when 
 the proclamation of the new Military Governor order- 
 ing the closing of the shops and the suspension of busi- 
 ness in general until the question of ownership was 
 established, had been issued, he was among the first 
 of the citizens to comply with it. True, his sole source 
 of income had been temporarily suspended. But what 
 matter? It meant order and prevented the wares from 
 falling into the hands of the enemy. His small shop 
 had enabled himself together with his wife and daugh- 
 ter to eke out a comfortable existence. Their cozy 
 home while unmistakably plain and unadorned with the 
 
 17
 
 1 8 THE LOYALIST 
 
 finer appointments indicative of opulence, nevertheless 
 was not without charm and cheeriness. It was delight- 
 ful in simplicity and neat arrangement. 
 
 Allison had welcomed the entry of General Arnold 
 into the city as a hero coming into his own, but he was 
 not slow in perceiving that the temperament of the man 
 rendered him an unhappy choice for the performance 
 of the onerous duties which the successful administra- 
 tion of the office required. Readily and with genuine 
 satisfaction did he yield to the initial mandate of the 
 Governor; but when the scent of luxury from this same 
 Governor's house, the finest mansion in the city and the 
 identical one lately occupied by the British commander, 
 was diffused throughout the city causing murmurs of 
 criticism and dissension, Matthew Allison forgot for 
 the moment his oath of fealty and gave expression to 
 pain and dissatisfaction. 
 
 "Why allow yourself to be disturbed at his manner 
 of living?" asked his wife, picking up the conversation 
 at the point where he had left it. 
 
 "And you and I and the vast majority of us sacri- 
 ficing our all. Why they tell me that his quarters 
 abound in luxury to a degree never excelled by Howe 
 himself." 
 
 "Well!" was the simple reply. 
 
 "And the Massachusetts Regiment has been ap- 
 pointed his guard of honor; and that two armed sol- 
 diers have been stationed at the doorposts." 
 
 Allison spoke with evident passion, the ardor .of 
 which pervaded his entire being. 
 
 "And yet I dare say you would be the first to dis- 
 approve of the other extreme," admonished Mrs. Al- 
 lison in her soft and gentle way. "Under martial law 
 you know, there must be no relaxation of discipline,
 
 THE LOYALIST 19 
 
 notwithstanding the fact that the Americans once 
 more control the city." 
 
 "Laxity or no laxity, it is extravagant for him to be 
 housed in the finest mansion in the city with a retinue 
 of servants and attendants only excelled by Sir Wil- 
 liam Howe; to be surrounded by a military guard of 
 selective choice; to maintain a coach and four with 
 footmen and servants, all equipped with livery of the 
 most exclusive design; to live in the greatest splendor, 
 notwithstanding the avowed republican simplicity of 
 the country as well as the distressed condition of our 
 affairs and finances. Who is paying for this extrava- 
 gance? We, of course. We are being taxed and 
 supertaxed for this profligate waste while our shops 
 are closed to all future trade. These are not alone 
 my opinions; they are the expressions of the men about 
 town. This was the sole topic of conversation today 
 at the Coffee House." 
 
 For where else would the news of the day be found 
 if not on the street corners or at the Coffee House? 
 This latter institution, like its London prototype, was 
 the chief organ through which the public opinion of 
 the metropolis continually asserted itself. Its con- 
 venience lay in its adaptability for the making of ap- 
 pointments at any hour of the day, or for the passing 
 of an evening socially for a very small charge. It 
 had its characters who became as famous as the insti- 
 tution itself, its orators to whose eloquence the crowd 
 listened with admiration, its medical men who might 
 be consulted on any malady merely for the asking, its 
 poets and humorists who in winter occupied the chairs 
 of learning nearest the stove and in summer held the 
 choice places on the balcony, and who discoursed fables 
 and politics with renewed embellishment upon the ad-
 
 20 THE LOYALIST 
 
 vent of every newcomer. The atmosphere always 
 reeked with the fumes of tobacco. Nowhere else was 
 smoking more constant than at the Coffee House. And 
 why any one would leave his own home and fireside to 
 sit amid such eternal fog, was a mystery to every good 
 housewife. But every man of the upper or the middle 
 class went daily to the Coffee House to learn and dis- 
 cuss the news of the day. 
 
 "I suppose Jim Cadwalader waxed warm today on 
 the subject and gave you inspiration," submitted Mrs. 
 Allison. "Why do you not suspend your judgment for 
 a while until you learn more about the Governor, at 
 any rate give him the benefit of a doubt until you have 
 some facts," mildly replied Mrs. Allison with that 
 gentle manner and meekness of temper which was 
 characteristic of her. 
 
 "Facts!" said he, "I am telling you that these are 
 facts. The Colonel saw this, I tell you, for he dined 
 with him. And I want to tell you this," he announced 
 pointing towards her, "he hates the Catholics and is 
 strongly opposed to any alliance with a Catholic coun- 
 
 try." 
 
 "Never mind, my dear. We cannot suffer for that." 
 "I know, but it may concern us sooner or later. Our 
 fathers endured severe tortures at the hands of a 
 bigoted Government, and if the new republic gives 
 promise of such unhappy tidings, we may as well leave 
 the earth." 
 
 "I would not take any undue alarm," quietly an- 
 swered Mrs. Allison as her deft fingers sped on with 
 the knitting. "General Washington is broad-minded 
 enough to appreciate our loyalty and our spirit of self- 
 sacrifice. And besides the new French Alliance will 
 prevent any of the intolerance which made itself mani*
 
 THE LOYALIST 21 
 
 fest in the person of King George. With a Catholic 
 ally, the government cannot very well denounce the 
 Catholics as you will discover from the repealing of 
 several of the laws which rendered life more or less 
 obnoxious in some of the colonies. And I think, too, 
 that we have given more than our share to the cause. 
 With so much to our credit, no public official, what- 
 ever his natural inclination, can afford to visit his big- 
 otry on us. I would not worry about General Arnold. 
 He will not molest us, I am sure." 
 
 "I don't think that he pleases me anyway." 
 "And why?" she paused to ask. "Because he main- 
 tains too expensive a livery, or has surrounded him- 
 self by too many attendants?" 
 
 "No. I dislike the man. I do not like his traits." 
 "It is unkind of you to say that. Who enjoys a 
 greater reputation for skill or bravery or personal 
 courage than he? What would have become of Gates, 
 or our army, or the French Alliance were he not at 
 Saratoga, and there too without a command, you must 
 remember." 
 
 "I know all that, but he is too blunt, too headstrong, 
 
 too proud, too " 
 
 Marjorie's figure at the door interrupted him. 
 
 II 
 
 Although Mistress Allison was not twenty, she main- 
 tained the composure of a married woman, sedate and 
 reserved like the matrons of this period. Her dress 
 was neat and well chosen, a chintz cotton gown, of a 
 very pretty blue stamp, blue silk quilt and a spotted
 
 22 THE LOYALIST 
 
 figured apron. The vivacity of her manner and the 
 winsomeness of her behavior were prepossessing, and 
 she was beautiful to look upon: her complexion as 
 dazzling white as snow in sunshine; except her cheeks, 
 which were a bright red; and her lips, of a still deeper 
 crimson. Her small oval face was surmounted by a 
 wealth of dark brown hair, craped up with two rolls 
 on each side and topped with a small cap of beautiful 
 gauze and rich lace, a style most becoming to a girl 
 of her age. Health, activity, decision were written full 
 upon her, whether in the small foot which planted 
 itself on the ground, firm but flexible, or in the bearing 
 of her body, agile or lofty. 
 
 She was the only child of Mr. Allison and a much 
 admired member of the city's middle class. And while 
 it is true that a certain equality in class and social re- 
 finement was an attribute of the American people 
 which found great favor in the eyes of the older world 
 inhabitants, it is equally true that this equality was 
 more seeming than real. This was due to a great 
 extent to the distinction established by the wealth and 
 the liberties enjoyed by the various classes of people. 
 It was said, and not without a semblance of truth, that 
 the inhabitants of Philadelphia were rated according 
 to their fortunes. The first class was known as the 
 carriage folk, who proclaimed, almost without excep- 
 tion, their pretended descent from the ancient English 
 families by their coats of arms imprinted upon their 
 carriage doors. The second class was composed of the 
 merchants, lawyers, and business men of the city; and 
 the third class, were those who exercised the mechan- 
 ical arts. These felt their social inferiority and never 
 hoped for any association with the upper classes. The
 
 THE LOYALIST 23 
 
 Allisons were of the middle rank, and were looked 
 upon as its most respected members. 
 
 Plain, simple-living folk, they made no pretense to 
 display. Neither did they affect aristocracy. Their 
 manner of living was as comfortable as their modest 
 means would allow. It was a common habit for the 
 people of this class to indulge in luxury far beyond 
 their resources and no small amount of this love of 
 ostentation was attributed to the daughters of the 
 families. In this respect Marjorie offended not in the 
 least. Whether assisting her father in the shop during 
 the busy hours, or presiding at the Coffee House, or 
 helping her mother with the affairs of the household, 
 she was equally at home. Neither the brilliance of the 
 social function, nor the pleasures of the dance roused 
 unusual desires in her. Indeed she seldom participated 
 in such entertainments, unless on the invitation and in 
 company with the Shippen family with whom she was 
 on the most intimate terms of friendship. The gay 
 winter season of the British occupation of the city 
 produced no change in her manner or attire. The 
 dazzling spectacle of the Mischienza found her se- 
 cluded in her home, more from her own desire than 
 from her pretended deference to the wishes of her 
 mother. 
 
 Her happiness was in her homelife. This was the 
 center of her affection as well as of her tenderest solici- 
 tude. Here she busied herself daily, either in the care 
 of the house, and the preparation of the meals, which 
 were by no means sumptuous owing to the scarcity of 
 all foodstuffs, or at the wheel where she made shirt- 
 ings and the sheetings for the army. A touch of her 
 hand here and there, to this chair, slightly out of place, 
 to this cup or that plate in the china-chest, to the
 
 24 THE LOYALIST 
 
 miniature on the wall, leaning slightly to one side, or 
 the whisk of her sweeping-brush through the silver- 
 sand on the floor, transformed a disorderly aspect into 
 one of neatness and taste. It was here that she spent 
 her days, enduring their unvarying monotony, with 
 sweet and unbroken contentment. 
 
 As she hurriedly entered the house, she arrested the 
 attention of her father and put a period to the conver- 
 sation. 
 
 "Oh, Father, have you heard?" 
 
 "What news now, child!" 
 
 "Washington has engaged the British." 
 
 "And how fared?" 
 
 "They were compelled to withdraw." 
 
 "Thank God." 
 
 "Where, Marjorie, did you come by 'thisi good 
 news?" inquired the mother. 
 
 "At the State House. A courier arrived from Mon- 
 mouth with the tidings," answered Marjorie, still 
 nervous to narrate the story, and forgetting to remove 
 her hat. 
 
 "When did this happen?" asked her father, im- 
 patiently. 
 
 "It seems that General Washington started in pur- 
 suit of Clinton as soon as he had evacuated the city. 
 He had decided that an attack must be made as soon 
 as possible. When the British reached Allentown, 
 they found the American army gaining the front and so 
 they turned towards Monmouth. Near the Court 
 House the British were outflanked and the Americans 
 gained the superior ground and so the battle was won. 
 Then General Lee ordered a retreat." 
 
 "A retreat?" exploded Mr. Allison. "What for?"' 
 
 "I do not know, but that was the report. Lee re-
 
 THE LOYALIST 25 
 
 treated when Washington arrived on the scene," con- 
 tinued Marjorie. 
 
 "And then?" 
 
 "He rallied the troops to another front and began 
 the attack anew, driving the British back a considerable 
 distance. Nightfall ended the battle, and when day 
 broke, Clinton had withdrawn." 
 
 "And Lee ordered a retreat!" exclaimed Mr. Al- 
 lison. "A damned poltroon!" 
 
 "All say the same. The crowd was furious upon 
 hearing the message, although some thought it too 
 incredible. The joy of victory, however, made them 
 forget the disgraceful part." 
 
 "My faith in him has never faltered," quietly ob- 
 served Mrs. Allison, as she prepared to resume the 
 knitting from which she had ceased on the sudden entry 
 of Marjorie. 
 
 "And his pretended friends must now croak forth 
 his praises," rejoined her husband. 
 
 "There were shouts and cheers," continued Mar- 
 jorie, "as the news was being announced. Each new- 
 comer would add another detail to the story with 
 beaming delight. All said that the retreat from the 
 city and the defeat of the British augured a speedy 
 termination of the war. The country is wholly united 
 again under General Washington." 
 
 "And what will become of Lee?" asked the father. 
 
 "The traitor !" snapped Marjorie. "They ought to 
 court-martial him. The crowd greeted his name with 
 hisses when the details began to impress themselves 
 upon them. I dare say, he has few friends in the city 
 tonight, expect perhaps among the Tories. He is a 
 disgrace to the uniform he wears." 
 
 "Undoubtedly, the losses were heavy."
 
 26 THE LOYALIST 
 
 "No one seemed to know. The minor details of the 
 engagement are still unknown. They will come later. 
 The consoling feature is that the enemy were com- 
 pelled to withdraw, which would indicate that they 
 were worsted. The remnants, I suppose, will concen- 
 trate at New York. There will occur the next great 
 battle." 
 
 "God grant that it will soon be over," exclaimed 
 Mrs. Allison. 
 
 "And now, daughter, have you more news?" asked 
 her father. 
 
 "Oh, yes ! General Arnold is going to give a ball at 
 the City Tavern on the Fourth of July to the officers 
 of the French Army. It will be under the auspices of 
 the American officers of Washington's command and 
 in honor of the loyal ladies who had withheld from the 
 Mischienza. And I have been invited to attend." 
 
 "I should think that we have had enough of social 
 life here during the past winter," quietly announced 
 the father. 
 
 "Well," replied Marjorie, "this affair is to exclude 
 all who participated in the English Army festivities. 
 Only Americans will be present." 
 
 "How did you come by this report?" asked her 
 mother. 
 
 "Peggy Shippen. I stopped there for a short time. 
 They told me of the proposed invitation and that I 
 was included." 
 
 "How came they by the news?" 
 
 "I suppose General Arnold told them." 
 
 "Is he acquainted with them? I wonder " 
 
 "Yes. They were presented to him, and he has 
 already honored them with his visit." 
 
 "I don't like this," said Mr. Allison, "and you can
 
 THE LOYALIST 27 
 
 be assured that there will be little restriction as to the 
 company who will comprise this assemblage. The 
 Governor will take sides with the wealthy, be their 
 sympathies what they may. Well, if he establish the 
 precedent, I dare say, none will be so determined as to 
 oppose him. Do you wish to go, daughter?" 
 
 "I think I might enjoy it. The French soldiers are 
 so gallant, I might find much pleasure there." 
 
 "Very well, you shall attend," said her father. 
 
 ill 
 
 And so it was decided that Marjorie would be pres- 
 ent at the Governor's Ball. As custom did not require 
 mothers to accompany their daughters to such func- 
 tions, but allowed them to go unattended, Mrs. Allison 
 preferred to remain at home. To what splendor and 
 gayety the affair would lend itself was a matter of 
 much speculation. This was the Governor's first event, 
 and no one was aware of his prowess on the ballroom 
 floor. 
 
 Once the list of invitations had become public, it 
 was understood quite generally that no distinction was 
 made between those that had, and those that had not, 
 attended the Mischienza. Whether the number would 
 be surprisingly small, or whether the affair would fail 
 of success without the Mischienza ladies, could not 
 be foretold. Indeed such speculations were idle, since 
 no discrimination had been made. There were a num- 
 ber of young French Officers in the town and one or 
 two of General Washington's aides had remained be- 
 cause of the pressure of immediate business after the 
 British evacuation. These of course would attend.
 
 28 THE LOYALIST 
 
 All the other available young men belonged to the 
 families who had held a more or less neutral position 
 in the war, and who had not offered their services to 
 the patriots nor yielded allegiance to the foe. As these 
 neutrals were among the most prominent people of the 
 city, their presence would, of course, be altogether 
 desirable. 
 
 Marjorie was invited through the efforts of Peggy 
 Shippen, who had proposed her name to His Excel- 
 lency on the occasion of his visit to her house. She 
 would be included in their party and would be assigned 
 a partner befitting her company. Because of the promi- 
 nence of the Shippens, it was thought that the gallant 
 young French Officers, would be assigned to them. 
 Marjorie rejoiced at this although the Shippen girls 
 evinced no such sentiment. Whether it was because the 
 French alliance was distasteful to them or because their 
 Tory leanings took precedence, they preferred other 
 guests for partners. But as the matter was to be de- 
 cided by lot, their likings were not consulted. 
 
 Ere long the city was agog with speculation respect- 
 ing the coming ball. The battle of Monmouth was 
 accorded a second place. The disdain of the middle 
 class, who had been embittered against such demon- 
 strations by the profligacy displayed during the days 
 of the British occupation, soon began to make itself 
 felt. That it was the first official or formal function 
 of the new republic mattered little. A precedent was 
 about to be established. There was to be a continu- 
 ation of the shameful extravagance which they had 
 been compelled to witness during the winter and which 
 they feared they would be forced to maintain for an- 
 other protracted period. Living was high, extremely 
 high, and the value of the paper currency had depre-
 
 THE LOYALIST 29 
 
 elated to almost nothing. Indeed it was said that a 
 certain barber in the town had papered his entire shop 
 with the bills and that a dog had been led up and down 
 the streets, smeared with tar, and adorned cap-a-pie 
 with paper money. To feed and clothe the army was 
 expense enough without being compelled to pay for 
 the splendors of a military ball. Small wonder that 
 the coming event aroused no ordinary speculation. 
 
 Nevertheless preparations went on with growing 
 vigor and magnificence, and not the least interested was 
 Marjorie. The event was now awaited with painful 
 anxiety. Even the war for a moment was relegated to 
 a place of minor import.
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 An imposing spectacle greeted Marjorie's eyes as 
 she made her way in company with the Shippen girls 
 into the ballroom of the City Tavern. The hall was 
 superb, of a charming style of architecture, well fur- 
 nished and lighted, and brilliantly decorated with a pro- 
 fusion of American and French flags arranged in fes- 
 toons and trianguloids and drapings throughout its 
 entire length and breadth, its atmosphere vocal with 
 the strains of martial music. Everywhere were women 
 dressed with elegance and taste. The Tory ladies, 
 gowned in the height of fashion, were to Marjorie a 
 revelation at once amazing and impressive. 
 
 On a raised dais sat the Governor in his great chair. 
 He was clothed in the regulation buff and blue uniform 
 of a Major General of the Continental Army. On his 
 shoulders he wore the epaulets and about his waist the 
 sword knots General Washington had presented to him 
 the preceding May. He bore also upon his person the 
 most eloquent of martial trophies, for his leg, wounded 
 at Quebec and Saratoga, rested heavily on a small 
 cushion before him. 
 
 Marjorie who saw him for the first time, was at- 
 tracted at once by his manly bearing and splendid 
 physique. His frame was large, his shoulders broad, 
 his body inclined to be fleshy. His very presence, how- 
 ever, was magnetic, still his manner was plain and with- 
 
 30
 
 THE LOYALIST 31 
 
 out affectation. He looked the picture of dignity and 
 power as he received the guests in their turn and 
 greeted each with a pointed and pleasant remark. 
 
 "Isn't he a handsome figure?" whispered Peggy to 
 Marjorie as they made their way slowly to the dais. 
 
 Marjorie acquiesced in the judgment. He was still 
 young, hardly more than thirty-five, his weather-beaten 
 face darkened to bronze from exposure. His feat- 
 ures were large and clean cut with the power of de- 
 cision written full upon them. A firm and forcible 
 chin, with heavy lines playing about his mouth; eyes, 
 large and black, that seemed to take toll of everything 
 that transpired about them, suggested a man of ex- 
 travagant energy, of violent and determined tenacity 
 in the face of opposition. No one could look upon his 
 imposing figure without calling to mind his martial 
 achievements the exploits of Canada, of the Mo- 
 hawk, of Bemis Heights. 
 
 "So this is your little friend," said he to Peggy, 
 eyeing Marjorie as she made her presentation courtesy. 
 He was now standing, though resting heavily on his 
 cane with his left hand. 
 
 "Mistress Allison, this privilege is a happy one. I 
 understand that you are a violent little patriot." 
 He smiled as he gently took her hand. 
 
 "I am very pleased, Your Excellency. This is an 
 occasion of rare delight to me." 
 
 "And are you so intensely loyal? Your friends 
 love you for your devotion, although I sometimes think 
 that they miss General Howe," and he smiled in the 
 direction of Peggy as he turned to her with this 
 remark. 
 
 "You know, General," Peggy was always ready with 
 an artful reply, "I told you that I was neither the one
 
 32 THE LOYALIST 
 
 nor the other; and that I wore black and white at the 
 Mischienza, the colors now worn by our American 
 soldiers in their cockades in token of the French and 
 American Alliance." 
 
 "So you did. I had almost forgotten." 
 
 "And that there were some American gentlemen 
 present, as well, although aged non-combatants," she 
 continued with a subtle smile. 
 
 "For which reason," he responded, "you would, I 
 suppose, have it assume a less exclusive appearance." 
 
 "Oh, no! I do not mean that. It was after all a 
 very private affair, arranged solely in honor of General 
 Howe." 
 
 "Were some of these young ladies at the Mis- 
 chienza? And who were they that rewarded the gal- 
 lant knights?" he asked. 
 
 "Well, the Chew girls, and my sisters, and Miss 
 Franks. There was Miss White, and Miss Craig," 
 she repeated the list one after the other as her eyes 
 searched the company assembled in the hall. "And that 
 girl in the corner, Miss Bond, and beyond her, her 
 sister: then there was Miss Smith. Miss Bond I am 
 told is engaged to one of your best Generals, Mr. John 
 Robinson." 
 
 "We are accustome4_to call Mr. Robinson, General 
 Robinson in the army," he ventured with a smile. 
 
 She blushed slightly. "We call him Mr. Robinson 
 in society, or sometimes Jack." 
 
 "And who might have been your gallant knight? 
 May I ask?" 
 
 "The Honorable Captain Cathcart," was her proud 
 reply. 
 
 "And who has the good fortune to be your knight
 
 THE LOYALIST 33 
 
 for this occasion?" he questioned, seeking in their 
 hands the billet of the evening. 
 
 "We do not know," Marjorie murmured. "We have 
 not as yet met the Master of Ceremonies." 
 
 He looked about him, in search evidently of some 
 one. "Colonel Wilkinson!" he called to a distin- 
 guished looking officer on his right, "have these fair 
 ladies been assigned to partners?" 
 
 The Colonel advanced and presented them with 
 their billets, which were numbered and which bore 
 the name of the partner that was to accompany them 
 during the entire evening. Peggy opened hers and 
 found the name of Colonel Jean Boudinot, a young 
 French Officer. Marjorie saw written upon hers a 
 name unknown to her, "Captain Stephen Meagher, 
 aide-de-camp." 
 
 "Captain Meagher!" exclaimed the Governor. "He 
 is one of General Washington's aides, detailed for the 
 present in the city. Do you know him?" 
 
 "No," replied Marjorie timidly, "I do not, I am 
 sorry to say. I have never had the privilege of meet- 
 ing him." 
 
 "There he is now," said he, indicating with a gesture 
 of the eyes a tall young officer who stood with his back 
 toward them. 
 
 Marjorie looked in the direction indicated. A be- 
 comingly tall and erect figure, cla4 in a long blue coat 
 met her gaze. Further scrutiny disclosed the details 
 of a square cut coat, with skirts hooked back display- 
 ing a buff lining, and with lappets, cuff-linings and 
 standing capes of like color. His bearing was over- 
 mastering as he stood at perfect ease, his hand resting 
 gently on a small sword hanging at his side; his right 
 wrist showed a delicate lace ruffle as he gestured to
 
 34 THE LOYALIST 
 
 and fro in his conversation. As he slightly turned in 
 her direction, she saw that he wore his hair drawn 
 back from the face, with a gentle roll on each side, 
 well powdered and tied in a cue behind. His features 
 were pleasant to look upon, not large but finely chiseled 
 and marked with expression. Marjorie thought what 
 a handsome figure he made as he stood in earnest con- 
 versation, dominating the little group who surrounded 
 him and followed his every move with interest and 
 attention. 
 
 "Let me call him," suggested the Governor to Mar- 
 jorie who at that moment stood with her eyes fixed on 
 the Captain. "I am sure he will be pleased to learn 
 the identity of his fair partner," he added facetiously. 
 
 "Oh I do," agreed Peggy. "It would afford pleasure 
 to all of us to meet him." 
 
 The General whispered a word to an attendant 
 who immediately set off in the direction of the uncon- 
 cerned Captain. As the latter received the message 
 he turned, looked in the direction of the dais and gazed 
 steadily at the Governor and his company. His eyes 
 met Marjorie's and she was sure that he saw her alone. 
 The thought thrilled her through and through. He 
 excused himself from the company of his circle, and 
 as he directed his footsteps towards her, she noted his 
 neat and close fitting buff waistcoat, and his immacu- 
 late linen revealing itself at the throat and ruffled 
 wrists. Nor did she fail to observe that he wore a 
 buff cockade on his left breast and gilt epaulets upon 
 his shoulders. 
 
 "Captain Meagher," announced General Arnold. 
 "I have the honor of presenting you to your partner 
 for the evening, Mistress Allison."
 
 THE LOYALIST 35 
 
 Marjorie courtesied gracefully to his courtly ac- 
 knowledgment. 
 
 "And the Misses Shippen, the belles of the Mis- 
 chienza!" 
 
 Stephen bowed profoundly. 
 
 "I was just remarking, Captain, that General Wash- 
 ington has honored you with a special mission, and that 
 you have run away from your duties tonight to mingle 
 with the social life of the city." 
 
 "Or rather, Your Excellency, to acquaint myself 
 with their society," Stephen replied good-naturedly. 
 
 "Then you do not relax, even for an evening," in- 
 quired Peggy, with a coquettish turn of the head. 
 
 "It is the duty of a soldier never to relax." Ste- 
 phen's reply was more naive than usual. 
 
 "And yet one's hours are shortened by pleasure and 
 action," continued Peggy. 
 
 "As a recreation it is far sweeter than as a business. 
 It soon exhausts us, however, and it is the greatest 
 incentive to evil." 
 
 "But you dance?" interrupted the General. 
 
 "Oh, yes! Your Excellency," replied Stephen, 
 "after a fashion." 
 
 "Well, your partner is longing for the music. Come, 
 let ye assemble." 
 
 And as the dance was announced, the first one being 
 dedicated to "The Success of the Campaign," Stephen 
 and Marjorie moved off and took their places. Peggy 
 and her sisters were soon attended and followed. They 
 were soon lost in the swirl of excitement among the 
 throng.
 
 36 THE LOYALIST 
 
 ii 
 
 "And you live alone with your father and mother?" 
 
 Marjorie and her partner were sitting in a distant 
 corner whither they had wandered at the conclusion of 
 the dance. Stephen began to find himself taking an 
 unusual interest in this girl and was inquiring concern- 
 edly about her home life. 
 
 "Yes, Father's time is much consumed with his 
 attention to the shop. Mother and I find plenty to 
 occupy us about the house. Then I relieve Father at 
 times, and so divide my hours between them," quietly 
 answered Marjorie. 
 
 "You have not as yet told me your name," Stephen 
 reminded her. 
 
 "Marjorie," was the timid reply. 
 
 "Marjorie !" Then, taking advantage of her averted 
 look, he stole secret glances at her small round face, 
 her lips, firmly set but curving upwards, her rose-pink 
 cheeks. Presently, his eye rested on her finger-ring, 
 a cameo with what looked like an ectypal miniature of 
 the "Ecce Homo." Was this girl of his faith? 
 
 "Marjorie Allison," he repeated again. "Do you 
 know that sounds like a Catholic name?" 
 
 "It is," Marjorie replied proudly. "Our family have 
 been Catholics for generations." 
 
 "Mine have, too," Stephen gladly volunteered the 
 information. "Irish Catholics with a history behind 
 them." 
 
 "Is your home here?" asked Marjorie. 
 
 "Here in this country, yes," admitted her escort. 
 "But I live in New York and it was there I volunteered 
 at the outbreak of the war, and saw my first service in 
 the New York campaign."
 
 THE LOYALIST 37 
 
 "And are your parents there, too?" inquired the 
 girl. 
 
 And then he told her that his father and mother and 
 only sister lived there and that when the war broke 
 out he determined to enlist in company with a number 
 of his friends, the younger men of the neighborhood. 
 How he took part in the campaign about New York 
 and his "contribution to our defeat," as he styled it. 
 Of the severe winter at Valley Forge and his appoint- 
 ment by Washington to his staff. She listened with 
 keen interest but remained silent until the end. 
 
 "And now you are in the city on detailed duty?" 
 
 "Yes. Work of a private nature for the Com- 
 mander-in-chief." 
 
 "It must be a source of satisfaction to be responsive 
 to duty," observed Marjorie. 
 
 "It is God's medicine to detach us from the things 
 of this world. For, after all has been said and done, 
 it is love alone which elevates one's service above the 
 domain of abject slavery. In such a manner do the 
 commands of heaven afford the richest consolations 
 to the soul." 
 
 "And still, a certain routine must manifest itself at 
 times." 
 
 "Not when the habit is turned to pleasure." 
 
 "You are a philosopher, then?" 
 
 "No. Just a mere observer of men and their des- 
 tinies." 
 
 "Have you included the duration of the war in your 
 legitimate conclusions?" 
 
 "It is not over yet, and it will not terminate, I think, 
 without an improvement in the present condition of 
 affairs. The proposed help from France must become 
 a reality of no ordinary proportion, else the discordant
 
 38 THE LOYALIST 
 
 factions will achieve dire results. Tell me," he said, 
 suddenly changing the topic of conversation, "were you 
 in attendance at the Mischienza?" 
 
 "No, I did not care to attend." 
 
 "I would I had been present." 
 
 "You would have been expelled in your present 
 capacity." 
 
 "Ah, yes! But I would have affected a disguise." 
 
 "You would expect to obtain important informa- 
 tion?" She fingered her gown of pink satin as she 
 spoke, oblivious of everything save the interest of the 
 conversation. 
 
 "I might possibly have stumbled across some items 
 of value." 
 
 "None were there save the British Officers and their 
 Tory friends, you know." 
 
 "A still greater reason for my desire to be present. 
 And why did you not dance attendance?" This ques- 
 tion was frank. 
 
 "Do you really want to know my sole reason?" She 
 looked at him somewhat suspicious, somewhat reliant, 
 awaiting her womanly instinct to reveal to her the rec- 
 titude of her judgment. 
 
 "I should not have asked, otherwise," Stephen 
 gravely replied. 
 
 "Well, it was for the simple reason that my soul 
 would burn within me if I permitted myself to indulge 
 in such extravagance and gayety the while our own 
 poor boys were bleeding to death at Valley Forge." 
 
 Stephen grasped her hand and pressed it warmly. 
 "You are a true patriot," was all he could say. 
 
 Whether it was his emotion for the cause of his 
 country or the supreme satisfaction afforded him by 
 the knowledge that this girl was loyal to the cause,
 
 THE LOYALIST 39 
 
 Stephen did not know, nor did he try to discover. He 
 knew that he was thrilled with genuine gratification 
 and that he was joyously happy over the thought which 
 now relieved his mind. Somehow or other he ear- 
 nestly desired to find this girl an ardent patriot, yet he 
 had dared not ask her too bluntly. From the moment 
 she had entered the hall in company with the other 
 girls, he had singled her alone in the midst of the com- 
 pany. And, when the summons came to him from the 
 Governor, he had seen her standing at the side of the 
 dais, and her alone. Little did he suspect, however, that 
 she bore his billet, nor did he presume to wish for the 
 pleasure of her exclusive company for the evening. 
 
 She danced with grace and was wholly without affec- 
 tation. How sweet she looked; pink gown, pink 
 flowers, pink ribbon, pink cheeks! How interesting 
 her conversation, yet so reserved and dignified! But 
 she lived in the city and the city he knew teemed with 
 Loyalists. Was she one of these ! He dared not ask 
 her. To have her so declare herself enraptured him. 
 She was one of his own after all. 
 
 Moreover she was one with him in religious belief 
 that was a distinct comfort. Catholics were not num- 
 erous, and to preserve the faith was no slight struggle. 
 He was thoroughly conversant with the state of affairs 
 in the province of New York where Catholics could 
 not, because of the iniquitous law and the prescribed 
 oath of office, become naturalized as citizens of the 
 state. He knew how New Jersey had excluded Roman 
 Catholics from office, and how North and South Caro- 
 lina had adopted the same iniquitous measure. Penn- 
 sylvania was one of the few colonies wherein all penal 
 laws directed against the Catholics had been absolutely 
 swept away. To meet with a member of his own per-
 
 40 THE LOYALIST 
 
 secuted Church, especially one so engaging and so 
 interesting as Marjorie, was a source of keen joy and 
 an unlooked-for happiness. 
 
 "You will not deny me the pleasure of paying my 
 respects to your father and mother?" Stephen asked. 
 
 She murmured something as he let go her hand. 
 Stephen thought she had said, "I had hoped that you 
 would come." 
 
 "Tomorrow?" he ventured. 
 
 "I shall be pleased to have you sup with us," she 
 smiled as she made the soft reply. 
 
 "Tomorrow then it shall be." 
 
 They rose to take their part in the next dance. 
 
 Ill 
 
 As the evening wore on Peggy, wearied of the dance, 
 sought a secluded corner of the great room to compose 
 herself. She had been disappointed in her lottery, for 
 she detested the thought of being a favor for a French 
 officer and had taken care to so express herself at home 
 long before. She could not rejoice at Marjorie's good 
 fortune as she thought it, and found little of interest 
 and less of pleasure in the evening's doings. 
 
 She was aroused from her solitude and made radiant 
 on the instant at sight of the Military Governor, limp- 
 ing his way across the hall in her direction. He had 
 seen her seated alone, and his heart urged him to her 
 side. With the lowest bow of which he was then 
 capable, he sought the pleasure of her company. Her 
 color heightened, she smiled graciously with her gray- 
 blue eyes, and accepted his hand. He led the way to 
 the banquet room and thence to the balcony, where
 
 THE LOYALIST 41 
 
 they might hear the music and view the dancing, for 
 his lameness made dancing impossible. 
 
 "I hesitate to condemn a young lady to a prison seat, 
 when the stately minuet sends a summons," he said as 
 he led her to a chair a little to one side of the balcony. 
 
 "You should have thought of that before you made 
 us cast lots," she replied quickly. "I was wearying of 
 the rounds of pleasure." 
 
 "Is the company, then, all too gay?" 
 
 "No, rather extravagant." 
 
 "You insisted on the Mischienza ladies being pres- 
 ent." 
 
 "And can you not distinguish them? Do they not 
 appear to better advantage than the others? Their 
 gowns are superior, they give evidence of more usage 
 in society, their head-dress is higher and of the latest 
 fashion." 
 
 "And their hearts, their hopes, their sympathies! 
 Where are they?" 
 
 "You know where mine lay," she adroitly replied. 
 
 "True, you did wear a French cockade," he laughed. 
 
 "Please do not call it 'French.' I scorn all things 
 Trench.' " 
 
 "They are our allies now, you must know." 
 
 "For which I am most sorry. I expect no mercy 
 from that scheming Papist country," she replied bit- 
 terly. 
 
 "But they have lent us much money at a time when 
 our paper currency is practically worthless, and the 
 assistance of their fleet is now momentarily expected," 
 the General went on to explain. 
 
 "And to what purpose? Lord North has proposed 
 to meet our demands most liberally and with our con-
 
 42 THE LOYALIST 
 
 stitutional liberties secured, I fail to see why further 
 strife is necessary." 
 
 "But our independence is not yet secure." 
 
 "It was secure after your brilliant victory at Sara- 
 toga. With the collapse of Burgoyne, England saw 
 that further campaigning in a country so far removed 
 from home was disastrous. It only remained to for- 
 mulate some mutual agreement. We have triumphed. 
 Why not be magnanimous? Why subject the country 
 to a terrible strain for years for a result neither ade- 
 quate nor secure?" 
 
 She talked rapidly, passionately. It was evident 
 from the manner of her address that the subject was 
 no new one to her. 
 
 "You can be court-martialed for treason?" he re- 
 marked with a slight smile playing about the heavy 
 lines of his mouth. 
 
 "Is it treason to talk of the welfare of the country? 
 I look upon the alliance with this Catholic and despotic 
 power as more of an act of treason than the total 
 surrender of our armies to King George. To lose our 
 independence is one thing; but to subject our fair land 
 to the tyranny of the Pope and his emissary, the King 
 of France, is a total collapse. Our hopes lie in Eng- 
 land alone." 
 
 The Governor was struck by this strange reasoning. 
 Why had this mere child dared to express the very 
 thoughts which were of late intruding themselves upon 
 his mind, but which he dared not permit to cross the 
 seal of his lips? She was correct, he thought, in her 
 reasoning, but bold in her denunciation. No one else 
 had dared to address such sentiments to him. And 
 now he was confronted with a young lady of quick wit 
 and ready repartee who spoke passionately the iden-
 
 THE LOYALIST 43 
 
 tical reflections of his more mature mind. Clearly 
 her reasoning was not without some consistency and 
 method. 
 
 "I am afraid that you are a little Tory." He could 
 not allow this girl to think that she had impressed him 
 in the least. 
 
 "Because I am frank in the expression of my views?" 
 She turned and with arched eyebrows surveyed him. 
 "Pardon me, if you will, but I would have taken no 
 such liberty with any other person. You gave me that 
 privilege when you forbade my alluding to your former 
 brilliant exploits." 
 
 "But I did not want you to become a Tory." 
 
 He spoke with emphasis. 
 
 "I am not a Tory I tell you." 
 
 "But you are not a Whig?" ,*/., 
 
 "What, an ordinary shop maid I" 
 
 "They are true patriots." 
 
 "But of no social standing." 
 
 "Tell me why all the Mischienza ladies courtesied to 
 me after so courtly a fashion," he asked. 
 
 "They like it. It is part of their life. You must 
 know that nothing pleases a woman of fashion more 
 than to bow and courtesy before every person of 
 royalty, and to count those who precede her out of a 
 room." 
 
 "Surely, Margaret, you are no such menial?" He 
 compressed his lips as he glanced at her sharply. He 
 had never before called her by her first name nor pre- 
 sumed to take this liberty. It was more a slip of the 
 tongue than an act of deliberate choice, yet he would 
 not have recalled the word. His concern lay in her 
 manner of action. 
 
 "And why not a menial?" Evidently she took no
 
 44 THE LOYALIST 
 
 notice of his presumption, or at least pretended not to 
 do so. "Piety is by no means the only motive which 
 brings women to church. Position in life is precisely 
 what one makes it." 
 
 "Does social prestige appeal to you then?" 
 
 "I love it." She did not talk to him directly for her 
 attention was being centered upon the activities on the 
 floor. "I think that a woman who can dress with taste 
 and distinction possesses riches above all computation. 
 See Mrs. Reed, there. How I envy her!" 
 
 "The wife of the President of the Council?" he 
 asked apprehensively, bending forward in the direction 
 of the floor. 
 
 "The same. She enjoys a position of social emi- 
 nence. How I hate her for it." She tapped the floor 
 with her foot as she spoke. 
 
 "You mean that you dislike her less than you envy 
 her position?" 
 
 Just then her young squire came up and she gave him 
 her hand for a minuet, excusing herself to the Gov- 
 ernor as graciously as possible. 
 
 Scarcely had she disappeared when he began to 
 muse. What a fitting companion she would make for 
 a man of his rank and dignity ! That she was socially 
 ambitious and obsessed with a passion for display he 
 well knew. She was not yet twenty but the disparity 
 in their ages, he was about thirty-seven and a wid- 
 ower with three sons, would be offset by the disparity 
 of their stations. No one in the city kept a finer stable 
 of horses nor gave more costly dinners than he. Every- 
 body treated him with deference, for no one presumed 
 to question his social preeminence. The Whigs ad- 
 mired him as their dashing and perhaps their most 
 successful General. The Tories liked him because of
 
 THE LOYALIST 45 
 
 his aristocratic display and his position in regard to 
 the Declaration of Independence. Why not make her 
 his bride? 
 
 She possessed physical charms and graces in a sin- 
 gular degree. She dressed with taste; her wardrobe 
 was of the finest. Aristocratic in her bearing, she 
 would be well fitted to assume the position of the first 
 lady of the town. Peggy, moreover, possessed a will 
 of her own. This was revealed to him more than once 
 during their few meetings, and if proof had been want- 
 ing, the lack was now abundantly supplied. She would 
 make an ideal wife, and he resolved to enter the lists 
 against all suitors. 
 
 Her mind was more mature than her years, he 
 thought. This he gleaned from her animated discus- 
 sion of the alliance. And there was, after all, more 
 than an ounce of wisdom in her point of view. Mis- 
 chief brewed in the proposed help from a despotic 
 power. His own signal victory ended the war if only 
 the Colonists would enter into negotiations or give an 
 attentive ear to the liberal proposals of Lord North. 
 The people did not desire complete independence and 
 he, for one, had never fully endorsed the Declaration. 
 Her point of view was right. Better to accept the over- 
 tures of our kinsmen than to cast our lot with that 
 Catholic and despotic power. 
 
 His musings were arrested by the arrival of an aide, 
 who announced that he was needed at headquarters. 
 He arose at once to obey.
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 Stephen awoke late the next morning. As he lay 
 with eyes closed, half asleep, half awake, the image of 
 his partner of the evening sweetly drifted into his 
 dreamy brain, and called up a wealth of associations 
 on which he continued to dwell with rare pleasure. 
 But the ominous suggestion that her heart could not 
 possibly be free, that perhaps some gay officer, or bril- 
 liant member of Howe's staff, or a gallant French 
 official, many of whom had now infested the town, 
 was a favored contestant in the field, filled his mind 
 with the thoughts of dread possibilities, and chased 
 away the golden vision that was taking shape. He sat 
 upright and, pulling aside the curtains of the little 
 window that flanked his bed, he peered into the garden 
 behind the house. The birds were singing, but not 
 with the volume or rapture which is their wont in the 
 early morning. The sun was high in the heavens and 
 flung its reflecting rays from the trees and foliage; 
 whence he concluded that the morning was already far 
 advanced and that it was well past the hour for him 
 to be astir. 
 
 And what a day it was ! One of those rare July days 
 when the tints of the earth and the hues of the sky 
 though varied in color, seem to blend in one beautiful 
 and harmonious whole. The cypress and the myrtle, 
 emblems of deeds of virtue and renown, had already 
 
 46
 
 THE LOYALIST 47 
 
 donned their summer dress. The many flowers bowed 
 gently under the weight of the flitful butterfly, or 
 the industrious bee, or tossed to and fro lightly in the 
 arms of the morning breeze. Overhead maples, re- 
 splendent in their fabric of soft and delicate green, 
 arched themselves like fine-spun cobwebs, through 
 which filigree the sun projected his rays at irregular 
 and frequent intervals, lending only an occasional patch 
 of sunlight here and there to the more exposed portions 
 of the garden. 
 
 But nature had no power to drive Marjorie's image 
 from his mind. Try as he would, he could not distract 
 his attention to the many problems which ordinarily 
 would have engaged thoughts. What mattered it to 
 him that the French fleet was momentarily expected, 
 or that the Continental Congress was again meeting in 
 the city, or that he had met with certain suspicious 
 looking individuals during the course of the day! There 
 was yet one who looked peculiarly suspicious and who 
 was enveloped, as far as his knowledge was concerned, 
 in a veil of mystery of the strangest depth. She, indeed, 
 was a flower too fair to blush unseen or unattached. 
 His own unworthiness confounded him. 
 
 Nevertheless he was determined to call on her that 
 very day, in response to her generous invitation of 
 last night, and in accordance too with the custom of the 
 time. He would there, perchance, learn more of her, 
 of her home, of her life, of her friends. But would he 
 excite in her the interest she was exciting in him? The 
 thought of his possible remoteness from her, pained 
 him and made his heart sink. The noblest characters 
 experience strange sensations of desolation and wretch- 
 edness at the thought of disapproval and rejection. 
 Esteem, the testimony of our neighbor's appreciation,
 
 48 THE LOYALIST 
 
 the approval of those worth while, these are the things 
 for which we yearn with fondest hopes. To know 
 that we have done well is satisfaction, but to know that 
 our efforts and our work are valued by others is one of 
 the noblest of pleasures. Stephen longed to know how 
 he stood in the lady's esteem, and so her little world 
 was his universe. 
 
 Dispatching the day's business as best he could, the 
 expectant knight set out to storm the castle of his lady. 
 Eager as he was, he did not fail to note the imposing 
 majesty of the great trees which lined each side of the 
 wide road and arched themselves into a peiiect canopy 
 overhead. An air of abundance pervaded the whole 
 scene and made him quite oblivious of the extreme 
 warmth of the afternoon. 
 
 Ere long the little white house of her describing 
 rose before him. He had seen it many times in other 
 days, but now it was invested with a new and absorbing 
 interest. There it stood, plain yet stately, with a great 
 pointed and shingled roof, its front and side walls un- 
 broken save for a gentle projection supported by two 
 uniform Doric pillars which served as a sort of a 
 portal before the main entrance. Numerous win- 
 dows with small panes of glass, and with trim green 
 shutters thrown full open revealing neatly arranged 
 curtains, glinted and glistened in the beams of the 
 afternoon sun. The nearer of the two great chimneys 
 which ran up the sides, like two great buttresses of an 
 old English abbey, gave indications of generous and 
 well-fed fireplaces recessed in the walls of the inner 
 rooms. The lawns and walks were uncommonly well 
 kept, and the whole atmosphere of the little home was 
 one of comfort and simplicity and neatness, suggesting 
 the sweet and serene happiness reigning within.
 
 THE LOYALIST 49 
 
 Stephen closed the gate behind him. A moment later 
 he had seized the brass knocker and delivered three 
 moderate blows. 
 
 "Captain Meagher!" gasped a soft voice. "I am 
 so pleased you have come." 
 
 "Mistress Allison, the pleasure is indeed mine, I 
 assure you," replied Stephen as he grasped her hand, 
 releasing it with a gentle pressure. 
 
 She led the way into the narrow hall. 
 
 "Mother!" she addressed a sweetly smiling middle- 
 aged woman who now stood at her side, "I have the 
 honor of presenting to you, Captain Meagher, of the 
 staff of General Washington, my partner of last even- 
 ing." And she betrayed a sense of pride in that bit of 
 history. 
 
 Stephen took the matron's hand, for among the 
 Americans the custom prevailed of shaking hands, 
 albeit the French visitors of the time maintained that 
 it was a "comic custom." Stephen thought it demo- 
 cratic, and in keeping with the spirit of the country. 
 
 The parlor opened immediately to the right and 
 thither Stephen was conducted without further cere- 
 mony. Mr. Allison would be in shortly; he was as 
 yet busied with the trade at the shop. The old clock 
 at the corner of the room, with its quaint figure of Time 
 adorning the top, and its slowly moving pendulum, 
 proclaimed the hour of five, the hour when the duties 
 of the day came to a close and social life began. 
 The old fireplace, black in this season of desuetude, 
 but brilliant in its huge brass andirons like two pilas- 
 ters of gold, caught the eye at the extreme end of the
 
 50 THE LOYALIST 
 
 room, while in the corner near the window a round 
 mahogany tea-table, stood upright like an expanded 
 fan or palm leaf. 
 
 Stephen seated himself in a great chair that lay to 
 one side of the room. 
 
 "I had the good fortune of being your daughter's 
 partner for the evening, and I am happy to be enabled 
 to pay my respects to you." Stephen addressed Mrs. 
 Allison who was nearer to him on his left. 
 
 "Marjorie told me, Captain, of your extreme kind- 
 ness to her. We appreciate it very much. Did she 
 conduct herself becomingly? She is a stranger to such 
 brilliant affairs." 
 
 "Splendidly!" answered Stephen. "And she danced 
 charmingly," and he slyly looked at her as he spoke 
 and thought he detected a faint blush. 
 
 "I did not attend on account of its extravagance,", 
 remarked Mrs. Allison. "I had duties at home, and 
 Marjorie was well attended." 
 
 "Indeed!" pronounced Marjorie. 
 
 "It was magnificent, to be sure," went on Stephen, 
 "but it will excite no uncertain comment. Republican 
 simplicity last night was lost from sight." 
 
 "Which I scarce approve of," declared Marjorie. 
 
 "You did not suit your action to your thought," 
 smiled her mother. 
 
 "True," replied the girl, "yet I told you that I was 
 anxious to attend simply to behold the novelty of it 
 all. Now that it is over, I disapprove of the splendor 
 and extravagance especially in these times of need." 
 
 "Yes," volunteered Stephen, "she did voice similar 
 sentiments to me last evening. Nevertheless she is not 
 alone in her criticism. The Gazette today publishes 
 a leading article excoriating the Military Governor for
 
 THE LOYALIST 51 
 
 his use of the teams, which he had commanded under 
 pretense of revictualing of the army, for the trans- 
 portation of his private effects to and from the City 
 Tavern. It spells dissatisfaction at best." 
 
 "There has been dissatisfaction from the first day on 
 which he took up residence at the Slate Roof House," 
 said Mrs. Allison. 
 
 The figure of Mr. Allison appeared in the room to 
 the rear. Stephen made haste to stand to greet him, 
 expressing his extreme pleasure. 
 
 It was a great day for a tradesman when an officer 
 of the Continental Army supped at his table. The 
 house was in a mild uproar since Marjorie announced 
 the coming distinction on her return from the ball. 
 From the kitchen chimney went up a pillar of smoke. 
 Mrs. Allison and two of her neighbors who were proud 
 to lend assistance on such an important occasion could 
 be seen passing in and out continually. A large roast 
 lay simmering and burnished in the pan diffusing sav- 
 ory and provoking fumes throughout the house. And 
 it was with distinct pride that Mrs. Allison announced 
 to the company that they might take their places about 
 the festive board. 
 
 The discourse bore on various matters, prominence 
 being given to politics and the affairs of the army. Mr. 
 Allison took care to ask no question that might give 
 rise to embarrassment on the part of Stephen. The 
 complaints of the tradesmen, the charges of the Whigs, 
 the murmurings of the Tories and the annoying articles 
 in the morning Gazette, all, were touched upon in the 
 course of the meal. Stephen volunteered the informa- 
 tion that Conway and Gates were in hiding and that 
 Clinton was driven to New York where Washington
 
 52 THE LOYALIST 
 
 was watching his every move, like a hawk, from the 
 heights of Morristown. 
 
 "General Washington holds General Arnold in the 
 highest esteem," remarked Mr. Allison. 
 
 "As the bravest general in the Continental Army," 
 quietly replied Stephen. 
 
 "He would make a poor statesman," went on the 
 host. 
 
 "He is a soldier first and last." 
 
 "Should a soldier be wanting in tact and diplo- 
 macy?" 
 
 "A good soldier should possess both." 
 
 "Then General Arnold is not a good soldier," de- 
 clared Mr. Allison. 
 
 "A criticism he hardly deserves," was the simple 
 reply. 
 
 "You saw the Gazette?" 
 
 "Yes. I read that article to which you undoubtedly 
 refer." 
 
 "And you agree with it?" 
 
 "No. I do not." 
 
 "I am sorry about it all. Yet I am inclined to hold 
 the Governor responsible to a great extent. He would 
 be an aristocrat, and it is the society of such that he 
 covets." 
 
 "Perhaps jealousy might inspire criticism. Envy, 
 you know, is the antagonist of the fortunate." 
 
 "But it is not his deeds alone that cause the unrest 
 among our citizens. It is not what he does but what 
 he says. It helps matters not in the least to express 
 dissatisfaction with the manner of conducting the war, 
 neither by criticizing the enactments of the Congress, 
 nor vehemently opposing the new foreign alliance.
 
 THE LOYALIST 53 
 
 This does not sound well from the lips of one of our 
 foremost leaders and we do not like it." 
 
 "I was not aware that he voiced any opposition to 
 the furtherance of the alliance with France," declared 
 Stephen. 
 
 "He might not have spoken in formal protest, Sut 
 he has spoken in an informal manner times without 
 number," replied Mr. Allison. 
 
 "I am sorry to hear that. I did not expect such from 
 General Arnold," muttered Stephen. 
 
 Marjorie had as yet taken no part in the conversa- 
 tion. She was interested and alive, however, to every 
 word, anxious, if possible, to learn Stephen's attitude in 
 respect to the common talk. She took delight in his 
 defense of his General, notwithstanding the over- 
 whelming evidence against him and was proud of the 
 trait of loyalty her guest disclosed in the face of her 
 father's opposition. 
 
 Mrs. Allison and Marjorie participated in the con- 
 versation when the topics bore, for the most part, on 
 current events, uninteresting to Mr. Allison, who 
 munched in silence until some incomplete sentence 
 called for a remark or two from him by way of a con- 
 clusion. Stephen's animated interest in the more com- 
 mon topics of the day led Mrs. Allison and Marjorie 
 to the conclusion that he was a more practical and 
 a more versatile man than the head of their own house. 
 
 All in all he made a profound impression on the 
 family, and when the repast was finished and the table 
 had been cleared, they sat over the fruit and the nuts, 
 before retiring to the living room for the evening.
 
 54 THE LOYALIST 
 
 in 
 
 "You are not in the habit of frequenting brilliant 
 functions?" Stephen asked of Marjorie when they 
 were quite alone. It was customary for the older folks 
 to retire from the company of the younger set shortly 
 after the dinner grace had been said. Of course grace 
 had to be said; Mr. Allison would permit no bread 
 to be broken at his house without first imploring bene- 
 dictions from Heaven, and, when the formalities of the 
 meal had been concluded, of returning thanks for the 
 good things enjoyed. 
 
 "I never have attended before," answered Mar- 
 jorie, smoothing out a side of her apron with her 
 hand. 
 
 "You are quite friendly with the Shippen family, I 
 understand." 
 
 "Oh, yes! For several years we have been united. 
 I am invited to all their functions. Still I am not fond 
 of society." 
 
 "And you spend your time alone?" Stephen was 
 persistent in his questions as he sat opposite to her and 
 studied her expression. 
 
 "Between here and the store, and perhaps with 
 Peggy. That is about all for I seldom visit. I am 
 hopelessly old-fashioned in some things, mother tells 
 me, and I suppose you will say the same if I tell you 
 more," and she looked at him slyly, with her head half- 
 raised, her lips parted somewhat in a quizzical smile. 
 
 "Not at all! You are what I rather hoped to find 
 you, although I did not dare to give expression to it. 
 You can, possibly, be of some assistance to me." 
 
 "Gladly would I perform any service, however
 
 THE LOYALIST 55 
 
 humble, for the cause of our country," Marjorie sat 
 upright, all attention at the thought. 
 
 "You remember I told you that I was detailed in the 
 city on special work," Stephen went on. 
 
 "I do." 
 
 "Well, it is a special work but it also is a very indefi- 
 nite work. There is a movement afoot, but of its 
 nature, and purpose, I at this moment am entirely 
 ignorant. I am here to discover clews." 
 
 "And have you no material to work on except that? 
 It is very vague, to say the least." 
 
 "That and suspicion. Howe found the city a nest 
 of Tories; but he also found it swarmed with patriots, 
 whose enthusiasm, and vigor, and patience, and deter- 
 mination must have impressed him profoundly, and 
 portended disaster for the British cause. With the 
 morale of the people so high, and renewed hope and 
 confidence swelling their bosoms, a complete military 
 victory must have appeared hopeless to the British 
 General. What was left? Dissension, or rebellion, 
 or treason, or anything that will play havoc with the 
 united determination of the Colonists." 
 
 She breathed heavily as she rested her chin on her 
 hand absorbed in the vision that he was calling up. 
 
 "Arnold's victory at Saratoga has convinced Britain 
 that the war over here cannot be won," he continued. 
 "Already has Lord North thrown a bomb into the 
 ranks of the proud Tories by his liberal proposals. 
 Of course they will be entirely rejected by us and the 
 war will continue until complete independence is 
 acknowledged. True, we had no such idea in mind 
 when we entered this conflict, but now we are con- 
 vinced that victory is on our side and that a free and 
 independent form of government is the most suitable
 
 56 THE LOYALIST 
 
 for us. We have enunciated certain principles which 
 are possible of realization only under a democratic 
 form of government, where the people rule and where 
 the rulers are responsible to the people. Such a system 
 is possible only in a great republic, and that is what 
 England must now recognize. Otherwise the war must 
 go on." 
 
 "Have our aims taken such definite form. I 
 know " 
 
 "No! They have not," interrupted Stephen, "they 
 have not and that is where trouble is to be expected. 
 Such is the state of mind, however, of many of the 
 more experienced leaders, but their opinion will lose 
 weight. It is because all are not united in this, that 
 there is room for treason under the motive of mis- 
 guided patriotism. And it is to scent every possible 
 form of that disloyalty that I have been sent here; 
 sent to the very place where the Tories most abound 
 and where such a plot is most liable to take root." 
 
 "And you expect me to be of assistance to you?" 
 asked Marjorie, proud of the confidence which she so 
 readily gained. 
 
 "I expect much. But perhaps nothing will eventu- 
 ate. I can rely on you, however. For the present, 
 naught is to be done. When the time comes, I shall 
 tell you." 
 
 "But what can I do? I am but a mere girl." 
 
 "Did I think you to be ordinary, I might not have 
 asked you," quickly exchanged Stephen. 
 
 Marjorie dropped her head and began studying the 
 stitches in her gown. But only for a second, for she as 
 quickly raised her head and asked: 
 
 "Wherein, then, can I be of service to you?" 
 
 "Listen!" He brought his chair to a point nearly
 
 THE LOYALIST 57 
 
 opposite hers. She was seated on the settee, yet he 
 made no attempt to share it with her. 
 
 "You are friendly with the Shippen family," he went 
 on. "Now, do not misinterpret me. I shall require no 
 betrayal of confidence. But it is generally known that 
 the Shippens are Tories, not avowedly so, yet in heart 
 and in thought. It is also generally known that their 
 house was the center of society during the days of the 
 British occupation, at which all manner of men assem- 
 bled. The walls of that house, could they but speak, 
 would be able to relate many momentous conversations 
 held over the teacups, or in quiet corners. The family 
 themselves must know many things which might be 
 invaluable to us." 
 
 "And you want me to learn that for you?" inquired 
 Marjorie in alarm as the horrible thought forced itself 
 upon her. 
 
 "I want you to do nothing of the kind," quickly 
 answered Stephen. "Far be it from me to require you 
 to barter your benevolence. I should deplore any such 
 method as most dishonorable and unworthy of the 
 noble cause in which we are engaged. No I I ask this, 
 simply, that through you I might be permitted the 
 honor of visiting the home of Miss Shippen and that 
 by being acquainted with the family I might acquire a 
 general entree to the Tory social circle. In this way I 
 might effect my purpose and perchance stumble across 
 information of vital importance. Thus can you be of 
 great assistance to me." 
 
 "I shall be delighted to do this, and I shall tell you 
 more perhaps you may ask me to do something 
 more noble sometime " She hesitated to ex- 
 press the wish which was father to her thought.
 
 58 THE LOYALIST 
 
 "Sometime I expect you to be of real service to me 
 and to our country sometime " 
 
 Marjorie did not answer. She knew what she would 
 like to say, but dared not. Why should he unfold his 
 mission to her at this, almost their first meeting? And 
 why should he expect her to be of such assistance to 
 him, to him, first, and then to the country? And then, 
 why should she feel so responsive, so ready to spend 
 herself, her energy, her whole being at the mere sug- 
 gestion of this young man, whom until last evening, she 
 had never thought to exist. She felt that she was as 
 wax in the hands of this soldier; she knew it and en- 
 joyed it and only awaited the moment when his seal 
 would come down upon her and stamp her more to his 
 liking. She was slightly younger than he, and hap- 
 pily his contrary in nearly all respects. He was fair, 
 she was dark; his eyes were blue, hers brown; he was 
 lusty and showed promise of broadness, she was 
 slender. 
 
 Twice she opened her mouth as if to speak to him, 
 and each time she dropped again her head in reflective 
 silence. She did not talk to this young man as she 
 might to any number of her more intimate acquaint- 
 ances. Even the very silence was magnetic. Further 
 utterance would dispel the charm. That she would en- 
 list in his service she knew as well as she knew her own 
 existence, but that he should arouse so keen an interest 
 in her, so buoyant an attitude, so secure an assurance, 
 amazed her and filled her with awe. She had never 
 before experienced quite the same sensation that now 
 dismayed her nor had any one ever brought home to 
 her her worth as did this young soldier. Yes she would 
 help him, but in what way? 
 
 And so they sat and considered and talked. They
 
 THE LOYALIST 59 
 
 soon forgot to talk about His Excellency, or the Army, 
 or the Shippens. Neither did they resolve the doubts 
 that might have been entertained concerning the man- 
 ner of men who frequented the home of Peggy and her 
 sisters; nor the Alliance which had just been estab- 
 lished, nor the vital signification of the event. They 
 just talked over a field of affairs none of which bore 
 any special relation to any one save their own selves. 
 At length the old clock felt constrained to speak up and 
 frown at them for their unusual delay and their profli- 
 gate waste of tallow and dips. 
 
 Stephen rose at once. Marjorie saw him to the door, 
 where she gave him her hand in parting. 
 
 "We have indeed been honored this day, Captain, 
 and I trust that the near future will see a return of the 
 same. I am entirely at your service," whispered Mar- 
 jorie, wondering why the words did not come to her 
 more readily. 
 
 "On the contrary, Miss Allison, it is I who have been 
 privileged. My humble respects to your parents. 
 Adieu!" 
 
 He bowed gracefully, wheeled, and went out the 
 door.
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 The Corner of Market and Front Streets was brisk 
 with life and activity at twelve, the change hour, every 
 day. Here assembled the merchants of the city, mem- 
 bers of the upper class who cared enough about the 
 rest of the world to make an inquiry into its progress; 
 men of leisure about town whose vocation in life was 
 to do nothing and who had the entire day in which to 
 do it. All conditions, all varieties of character joined 
 the ranks. Soldiers, restless from the monotony of 
 army life and desirous of the license usually associated 
 with leave of absence; civilians eager in the pursuit of 
 truth or of scandal; patriots impatient with the yoke 
 of foreign rule; Tories exasperated with the turn of 
 the war and its accompanying privations; all gath- 
 ered together at the Old London Coffee House day 
 after day. 
 
 It stood, an imposing three-storied, square structure, 
 with a great wing extending far in the rear. Its huge 
 roof, fashioned for all the world after a truncated 
 pyramid with immense gables projecting from its sides, 
 gave every indication of having sheltered many a guest 
 from the snows and rains of winter. A great chimney 
 ran up the side and continually belched forth smoke 
 and sparks, volumes of them, during the days and 
 nights of the cold winter season. A portico of no par- 
 ticular style of architecture ran around two sides of the 
 
 60
 
 THE LOYALIST 61 
 
 ancient building and afforded a meeting place for the 
 majority of the guests. It was furnished with many 
 chairs, faithfully tenanted when the season was pro- 
 pitious. 
 
 Thither Stephen and Mr. Allison were directing 
 their steps more than a week after they had last met 
 at the home of the latter. It was by the merest chance 
 they encountered. Stephen was seeking a healthful 
 reaction from a vigorous walk through the less-fre- 
 quented part of the city; Mr. Allison was making his 
 daily visit to the Coffee House. Stephen had often 
 heard of the tavern, but had never been there. Still 
 he was resolved to seek an introduction to its clientele 
 at the first propitious moment. That moment had now 
 come. 
 
 Upon entering, their attention was at once arrested 
 by the animated discussion in progress at a table in 
 the nearest corner of the room. An officer of the Gov- 
 ernor's Guard, in full regimentals, booted and spurred, 
 in company with a gentleman, finely dressed, was talk- 
 ing loudly to Jim Cadwalader, who was seated before 
 them holding a half-opened newspaper in his hand. 
 It was plain to be seen that the soldier was somewhat 
 under the influence of liquor, yet one could not call him 
 intoxicated. 
 
 "Gi' me that an' I'll show y'," exclaimed the soldier 
 as he grabbed the paper from Cadwalader's hand. 
 
 "Y' were told," he went on to read from it, "that 
 it was t' avoid the 'stabl'shment 'r count'nancin'," he 
 half mumbled the words, "of Pop'ry; an that Pop'ry 
 was 'stabl'shed in Canada (where 't was only tol- 
 'rated) . And is not Pop'ry now as much 'stabl'shed by 
 law in your state 's any other rel'gion?" "Just what I 
 was sayin'," he interpolated. "So that your Gov'nor
 
 62 THE LOYALIST 
 
 and all your rulers may be Papists, and you may have a 
 Mass-House in ev'ry corner o' your country (as some 
 places already 'xper'ence)." 
 
 "There!" he snarled as he threw back the paper. 
 "Isn't that what I wuz tryin' t' tell y'." 
 
 "You can't tell me nothin', Forrest," retorted Jim. 
 
 "Course I can't. Nobody kin. Y' know 't all." 
 
 "I can mind my own bus'ness." 
 
 "There y' are agin," shouted Forrest, "y' know 't 
 all, ye do." 
 
 "Don't say that again," Jim flared back at him. 
 TilI'll I'll . Don't say it again, that's all." 
 
 " 'Cause y' know 'ts true." 
 
 "It's a lie," Jim interrupted him. "Ye know it's a 
 lie. But I don't 'spect much of ye, 'r of the Gov'nor 
 either. None of ye '11 ever be Papists." 
 
 "Now you're talkin' sens'ble; first sens'ble thing 
 you've said t'day. No Papists here if we kin help it." 
 
 Stephen and Mr. Allison, keenly interested in this 
 remark, moved nearer to the table. Cadwalader was 
 well known to Mr. Allison. The others were total 
 strangers. 
 
 "What's he goin' t' do about the help from France? 
 Refuse it 'cause it's from a Catholic country?" asked 
 Jim. 
 
 "He don't like it and never did." 
 
 "Is he fool 'nough t' think we can win this war 
 without help?" 
 
 "He won it once." 
 
 "When?" 
 
 "Saratoga." 
 
 "That's his story. We didn't have it won and it 
 won't be won without troops and with somethin' besides 
 shin-plasters." He turned sideways, crossed one leg
 
 THE LOYALIST 63 
 
 over the other and began to drum upon the table. 
 
 "We must hev help," he went on. "We must hev 
 it and it must come from France 'r Spain." 
 
 "They y' are agin," repeated Forrest, "as if one 
 wuzn't as much under th' Pope as th' other." 
 
 "Forrest!" he turned toward him and shook his 
 finger at him in a menacing sort of way. "Don't say 
 that agin. Mind what I tell ye. Don't say it again 
 that's all. When I'm mad, I'm not myself." 
 
 "Is that so? I s'pose I'm wrong agin, an' you're 
 right. Tell me this. What did yer fool leg'slature in 
 Vi'ginya do th' other day?" 
 
 "I don't know," murmured Jim. "What did they 
 do?" 
 
 "There y' are agin. I thought y' knew it all. Think 
 y' know ev'rythin' an' y' know nothin'. Passed a reso- 
 lution fur a Papist priest, didn't they?" 
 
 "And why?" pronounced Jim, flushed with anger, his 
 lower lip quivering with emotion. " 'Cause he did more 
 fur his country, than you or I'll ever do. Father 
 Gibault! And if it wazn't fur him, Colonel Clark 'd 
 never hev op'nd th' Northwest." 
 
 "That's just what I say. The Papists '11 soon own 
 the whole damn country." 
 
 Stephen and Mr. Allison moved as if to join the 
 discussion, which had at this juncture become loud 
 enough to lose the character of intimacy. Jim was 
 well known to the guests of the house. The man who 
 was known as Forrest, was, it was plain from his uni- 
 form, a Colonel in the army. The other man was a 
 stranger. Much younger than his companion, tall, 
 manly, clad in a suit of black, with his hair in full dress, 
 well-powdered and gathered behind in a large silken 
 bag, he gave every appearance of culture and refine-
 
 64 THE LOYALIST 
 
 ment. He wore a black cocked hat, whose edges were 
 adorned with a black feather about an inch in depth, 
 his knees as well as his shoes adorned with silver 
 buckles. 
 
 "If they did own th' country," was Jim's grave reply, 
 "we'd hev a healthier place to live in than we now hev." 
 
 "An' whose doin' it?" shouted Forrest. "The 
 Papists." 
 
 "Thou liest!" interrupted Mr. Allison, intruding 
 himself into their midst, "a confounded lie. Remem- 
 ber, the Catholics have given their all to this war 
 their goods, their money, their sons." 
 
 "Heigh-ho! who're you?" asked the soldier. "What 
 d' you know 'bout the army? Hardly 'nough 'f them 
 to go aroun'." 
 
 "A malicious untruth. Why, half the rebel army it- 
 self is reported to have come from Ireland." 
 
 "How do you know?" 
 
 "From the testimony of General Robertson in the 
 House of Lords. And if these soldiers are Irishmen,, 
 you can wager they're Catholics. And why should we 
 pass laws 'gainst these crowds of Irish Papists and con- 
 victs who are yearly poured upon us, unless they were 
 Catholic convicts fleeing from the laws of persecu- 
 tion?" 
 
 "What ails ye, Forrest," rejoined Jim, "can't be 
 cured." 
 
 "Take care 'f yourself," angrily retorted the Colo- 
 nel, "an' I'll take care o' myself." 
 
 "If ye did, and yer likes did the same, we'd git 
 nlong better and the war 'd be over. I s'pose ye know 
 hat yer friend Jay lost Canada to us." 
 
 "What if he did. Wazn't he right?" 
 
 And then he explained to him.
 
 THE LOYALIST 65 
 
 ii 
 
 Canada had been surrendered to England by France 
 in a clause of the Treaty of Paris in 1763, with a stipu- 
 lation, however, that the people of the territory in 
 question would be permitted the free use of the French 
 language, the prescriptions of the French code of laws, 
 and the practice of the Catholic religion. 
 
 South of this region and west of the English colonies 
 between the Ohio and the Mississippi rivers, stretched 
 a vast expanse of territory known as the Northwest 
 Territory, where dwelt a large population without 
 laws, with no organized form of government save the 
 mere caprices of petty military tyrants, placed over 
 them by the various seaboard colonies who severally 
 laid claim to the district. At the request of the people 
 of Canada it was voted by the English Parliament to 
 reannex the territory northwest of the Ohio to Canada 
 and to permit the settlers to share in the rights and 
 privileges of the Canadian province. This was effected 
 by the Quebec Act in 1774. 
 
 It was truly a remarkable concession. The inhabit- 
 ants of this vast stretch of territory were freed for 
 all time from the tyranny of military despots, their 
 lands and churches secured to them and their priests 
 given a legal title to their tithes. It was the freest 
 exercise of the Catholic religion under the laws of the 
 English Government. 
 
 But what a storm of abuse and protestation was 
 raised by the fanatical portion of the Protestant popu- 
 lation! The newspapers of the day abounded with 
 articles, with songs and squibs against the King and 
 His Parliament. The mother country witnessed no less 
 virulent a campaign than the colonies themselves. "We
 
 66 THE LOYALIST 
 
 may live to see our churches," writes one writer to 
 the Pennsylvania Packet, "converted into mass-houses, 
 and our lands plundered of tithes for the support of a 
 Popish clergy. The Inquisition may erect her stand- 
 ard in Pennsylvania and the city of Philadelphia may 
 yet experience the carnage of St. Bartholomew's day." 
 Processions were formed about the country and in 
 some places the bust of George III, adorned with 
 miter, beads nnd a pectoral cross, was carried in tri- 
 umphal march. 
 
 The forms of protest found their way ultimately into 
 the halls of the First American Congress which con- 
 vened in Philadelphia in 1774. The recent legislation 
 was enumerated among the wrongs done the colonies 
 by the mother country. Feeling became so bitter that 
 an address was issued by the Congress on the fifth of 
 September, 1774, "to the people of Great Britain" 
 saying: "We think the Legislature of Great Britain 
 is not authorized by the Constitution to establish a 
 religion, fraught with sanguinary and impious tenets, 
 or to erect an arbitrary form of government in any 
 quarter of the globe." "By another act the Dominion 
 of Canada is to be extended, modeled and governed, 
 as that being disunited from us, detached from our 
 interests by civil as well as religious prejudices, that by 
 their numbers daily swelling with Catholic emigrants 
 from Europe, and by their devotion to administration 
 so friendly to their religion, they might become for- 
 midable to us, and on occasion be fit instruments in the 
 hands of power to reduce the ancient free Protestant 
 colonies to the same state of slavery with themselves." 
 Little did they think that the breach they were attempt- 
 ing to heal was widened by their procedure. The
 
 THE LOYALIST 67 
 
 author of the address was John Jay, a lawyer from 
 New York, with whom Papaphobia was a mania. 
 
 Nor did the failure of this method of diplomacy 
 become apparent until several years later. The meas- 
 ure of appreciation and the expression of sentiment of 
 the Canadian people in regard to this ill-timed and 
 unchristian address, conceived in a fit of passion and 
 by no means representative of the sentiments of the 
 saner portion of the population, took expression at a 
 more critical time. When, in 1776, the members of the 
 same Congress, viewing with alarm the magnitude of 
 the struggle upon which they had entered and to whose 
 success they had pledged their honor, their fortunes 
 and their lives, sought to enlist the resources of their 
 neighbors in Canada, they met with a sudden and 
 calamitous disappointment. To effect an alliance 
 with the border brethren, three commissioners were 
 appointed Benjamin Franklin, Samuel Chase, and 
 Charles Carroll of Carrollton. Father John Carroll, a 
 Jesuit priest, was invited by the Congress to accom- 
 pany the party. 
 
 Arriving in Canada, it soon became evident to the 
 committee, that their mission was to be unproductive 
 of results. The government did not take kindly to 
 them, nor would the Bishop of Quebec and his clergy 
 trust the vague expressions of the United Colonies, 
 whose statute books, they pointed out, still bore the 
 most bitter and unchristian sentiments against all 
 priests and adherents of the ancient church. Bigotry 
 had apparently defeated their purpose. How it had 
 done this was still quite obscure, until it was discovered 
 that the British Government had taken John Jay's 
 address, translated it into French and spread it broad- 
 cast throughout Canada. "Behold the spirit of the
 
 68 THE LOYALIST 
 
 Colonists," it went on to remind the people, "and if 
 you join forces with them, they will turn on you and 
 extirpate your religion, in the same manner as they did 
 in the Catholic colony of Maryland." 
 
 The effect is historical. The commissioners were 
 compelled to return; the brave Montgomery was 
 killed before the walls of the city; Canada was lost to 
 the Colonies and forever forfeited as an integral part 
 of the United States; all of which was due to the nar- 
 rowness and intolerance of those who in the supreme 
 hour could not refrain from the fanaticism of bigotry. 
 
 It must be said, however, out of justice to the colo- 
 nists that they did not persist in their spirit of antago- 
 nism towards the Catholics. The commencement of 
 the struggle against the common foe, together with 
 the sympathetic and magnanimous concurrence of the 
 Catholics with the patriots in all things, soon changed 
 their prejudice in favor of a more united and vigorous 
 effort in behalf of their joint claims. The despised 
 Papists now became ardent and impetuous patriots. 
 The leaders in the great struggle soon began to reflect 
 an added luster to the nation that gave them birth and 
 to the Church which taught them devotion to their 
 land. The rank and file began to swarm with men of 
 the Catholic faith, so many, indeed, that their great 
 Archbishop, John Carroll, could write of them that 
 "their blood flowed as freely (in proportion to their 
 numbers) to cement the fabric of independence, as that 
 of any of their fellow citizens. They concurred with 
 perhaps greater unanimity than any other body of men 
 in recommending and promoting that government from 
 whose influence America anticipates all the blessings of 
 justice, peace, plenty, good order, and civil and re- 
 ligious liberty."
 
 THE LOYALIST 69 
 
 Only among the few was the spirit of intolerance 
 still rampant, and among these might be numbered 
 Colonel Forrest. 
 
 Ill 
 
 "See now who's t' blame, don't ye? The likes o' ye 
 an' that poltroon, Jay, up there in New York. See 
 who started this affair, don't ye?" 
 
 "That's what you say. Egad, I could say all that 
 an' save half the breath. I've got my 'pinion, though, 
 and that'll do fur me." 
 
 "Ye're so narrow, Forrest, ye've only one side." 
 
 "Is that so? Well, so is the Governor." 
 
 "Is that his opinion, too?" impatiently asked Mr. 
 Allison. 
 
 "What?" 
 
 "Does he view matters in that light?" 
 
 "Did I say he did." 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 There was no further response. 
 
 Stephen had, by this time, become thoroughly exas- 
 perated with this man, and was about to eject him 
 forcibly from the room. His better judgment, how- 
 ever, bade him restrain himself. A tilt in a public 
 drinking house would only noise his name abroad and 
 perhaps give rise to much unpleasantness. 
 
 "How can a man consistently be subject to any civil 
 ruler when he already has pledged his allegiance, both 
 in soul and in body, to another potentate?" 
 
 This from the man in black, the fourth member of 
 the party, who heretofore had maintained an impartial 
 and respectful silence, not so much from choice per-
 
 70 THE LOYALIST 
 
 haps as through necessity. His name proved to be 
 John Anderson. 
 
 "You mean an alien?" Stephen inquired. 
 
 "If you are pleased so to term it. The Pope is a 
 temporal lord, you understand, and as such is due 
 allegiance from every one of his subjects." 
 
 And then Stephen took pains to explain, clearly and 
 concisely, the great difference between the two au- 
 thorities the civil and the religious. The Prince of 
 Peace had said, "Render unto Csesar the things that 
 are Caesar's, and to God the things that are God's," 
 which declaration admitted of an interpretation at 
 once comprehensive and exclusive. He explained how 
 the Catholic found himself a member of two distinct 
 and perfect societies, each independent and absolute 
 within its own sphere, the one deriving its charter from 
 the natural law, the other directly from God. He 
 then pointed out how these societies lived in perfect 
 harmony, although armed with two swords, the one 
 spiritual, the other temporal, weapons which were 
 intended never to clash but to fight side by side for 
 the promotion of man's happiness, temporal and 
 eternal. 
 
 "But it is inconceivable how a clash can be avoided," 
 Mr. Anderson reminded him. 
 
 "Not when it is remembered that each authority is 
 independent of the other. The Church has no power 
 over civil legislation in matters purely secular, nor has 
 the state a right to interfere in ecclesiastical legisla- 
 tion, in matters purely spiritual, nor over spiritual per- 
 sons considered strictly as such. In every Catholic 
 country the King, as well as the humblest peasant, is 
 subject to the laws of his country in secular matters, 
 and to the laws of his church in matters spiritual."
 
 THE LOYALIST 71 
 
 "Yet at the same time he cannot fail to recognize 
 that the one is superior to the other." 
 
 "Only in so far as the spiritual order is superior to 
 the secular." 
 
 "Not in temporal affairs as well?" 
 
 "Not in the least. Only in the recognition of the 
 fact that the salvation of the soul is of more impor- 
 tance than the welfare of the body. In this is the 
 mission of the state considered inferior to that of the 
 Church." 
 
 "If this be true, how can a Catholic pay allegiance 
 to a society which he believes to be a subordinate one?" 
 
 "He does not consider it subordinate. It is supreme 
 within its own sphere. Theoretically it is subordinate 
 in this: that the care of the soul comes first; then that 
 of the body. The state is the greatest institution in 
 matters secular, and in this respect superior to the 
 Church. The Church makes no pretense of infalli- 
 bility in statesmanship. Hence, a Catholic who is true 
 to his Church and her teachings makes the best citizen." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 "Because, to him, patriotism is inculcated by re- 
 ligion. Throughout his whole life his soul has been 
 nurtured by his Church on a twofold pabulum, love 
 of God and love of country." 
 
 "The Catholic Church expressly teaches that? I 
 thought " 
 
 "Exactly," agreed Stephen, interrupting him. "The 
 Catholic has been taught that the civil authority, to 
 which he owes and pays allegiance, is something divine; 
 for him it is the authority of God vested in His crea- 
 tures and he gives ear to its voice and yields to it a 
 sweet and humble submission as befits a child of God,
 
 72 THE LOYALIST 
 
 doing His Will in all things. For he recognizes therein 
 the sound of the Divine Voice." 
 
 "I see." 
 
 "He remembers the teaching of his Church, derived 
 from the words of St. Paul writing on this subject to 
 the citizens of Rome, 'Let every man be subject to 
 higher powers, for there is no power but from God; 
 and those that are, are ordained of God,' and the 
 letter of St. Peter, the first Pope, 'Be ye subject, there- 
 fore, to every human creature for God's sake; whether 
 it be to the king as excelling; or to governors as sent 
 by him for so is the will of God.' ' 
 
 "You must have been reading the Bible," interrupted 
 Mr. Allison with a smile. 
 
 "I have," answered Stephen, as he continued with 
 little or no attention to the interruption. 
 
 "The Catholic obeys the voice of his rightly con- 
 stituted authority because he feels that he is obeying 
 the voice of his God, and when he yields obedience to 
 the law of his land, he feels that he is yielding obe- 
 dience to God Himself. His ruler is the mouthpiece 
 of God; the Constitution of his state a most sacred 
 thing because it is the embodiment of the authority of 
 God and he would rather die than commit any un- 
 toward or unlawful deed which might undermine or 
 destroy it, precisely because it is from God." 
 
 There was no response. Al 1 had listened with atten- 
 tion to Stephen as he emphasized point after point. 
 All, save Colonel Forrest, who wore a sardonic smile 
 throughout it all. 
 
 "You should Ve talked like that on Guy Fawkes' 
 Day," he muttered, "if you wanted t' hev some fun. 
 We'd hev some hot tar fur you." 
 
 "Thank God!" replied Stephen. "We shall witness
 
 THE LOYALIST 73 
 
 no more such outbreaks of fanaticism. They have long 
 enough disgraced our country. They are, I trust, for- 
 ever ended." 
 
 "The Pope Day Celebration ended?" asked Ander- 
 son in surprise. 
 
 "I hope so. Since General Washington issued the 
 order soon after taking command of the army, abolish- 
 ing the celebration, the practice has never been re- 
 sumed." 
 
 "Wash'ton thinks he owns th' country," mumbled 
 Forrest in a half articulate manner. "Likes th' 
 Papists, he does. No more Pope Day! Cath'lic 
 gen'rals ! French al-lies ! P'rhaps '11 send fur th' Pope 
 next. Give 'm 'is house, p'rhaps. Give 'im th' whole 
 coun'ry. No damn good to us, he ain't. No damn 
 good " 
 
 The next moment Stephen was upon him with his 
 hands about his throat, his face flaming with rage and 
 passion. 
 
 "You hound ! No more of that ; or your treason will 
 end forever." 
 
 He shook his head violently, tightening his fingers 
 about his throat. As he did, Forrest writhing in the 
 chair under his attack, began to fumble with his hand 
 at his hip as if instinctively seeking something there. 
 Stephen's eyes followed the movement, even while he, 
 too, relaxed his hold to seize with his free hand the 
 arm of his adversary. Only for a moment, however; 
 for he immediately felt himself seized from behind by 
 the shoulders and dragged backwards from his man 
 and completely overpowered. 
 
 The man who was known as Anderson took charge 
 of the Colonel, helping him to his feet, and without
 
 74 THE LOYALIST 
 
 further words led him to one side of the room, talking 
 softly but deliberately to him as he did so. 
 
 A moment later they had passed through the door 
 and vanished down the street in the direction of the 
 Square.
 
 The morrow was one of those rare days when all 
 nature seems to invite one to go forth and enjoy the 
 good things within her keeping. The sunrise was men- 
 acing; unless the wind shifted before noon it would be 
 uncomfortably warm. Still, the air was bracing and 
 fragrant with the soft perfume distilled by the pines. 
 
 Stephen felt in tune with nature as he made his early 
 morning toilet. He gazed the while into the garden 
 from his widely opened window, and responded in- 
 stinctively to the call of the countryside. The disagree- 
 able episode of the preceding day had left unpleasant 
 recollections in his mind which disconcerted him not a 
 little during his waking hours, the time when the 
 stream of consciousness begins to flow with an unre- 
 strained rapidity, starting with the more impressive 
 memories of the night before. He did not repent his 
 action; he might have repeated the performance under 
 similar circumstances, yet he chided himself for his 
 lack of reserve and composure and his great want of 
 respect to a superior officer. 
 
 He was early mounted and on his way, striking off 
 in the direction of the Germantown Road. He had 
 left word with his landlady of his intended destination, 
 with the added remark that he would be back in a short 
 time, a couple of hours at the most, and that he would 
 attend to the business of the day upon his return. 
 
 75
 
 76 THE LOYALIST 
 
 What that might amount to he had no idea at all, 
 being preoccupied entirely with what he had to do in 
 the immediate present, for he made it a point never to 
 permit the more serious affairs of life to intrude upon 
 his moments of relaxation. 
 
 He was a pleasant figure to look upon; smooth- 
 faced and athletic, well mounted and dressed with 
 great preciseness. On his well shaped hands he wore 
 leathern gauntlets; he was in his uniform of buff and 
 blue; beneath his coat he had his steel-buckled belt with 
 his holster and pistol in it; he wore his cocked hat with 
 a buff cockade affixed, the insignia of his rank in the 
 service. 
 
 The road lay in the direction of Marjorie's house. 
 Perhaps he chose to ride along this way in order that 
 he might be obliged to pass her door, and then again, 
 perhaps, that was but of secondary import. This was 
 no time for analysis, and so he refused to study his 
 motives. He did know that he had not seen her for a 
 long time, the longest time it seemed, and that he had 
 had no word from her since their last meeting, save 
 the intelligence received from her father yesterday in 
 response to his repeated inquiries concerning her wel- 
 fare and that of her mother. 
 
 "Let us turn up here, Dolly, old girl." He leaned 
 forward a little to pat the mare's neck affectionately 
 as he spoke ; while at the same time he pulled the right 
 rein slightly, turning her head in the direction indicated. 
 "And, if we are fortunate, we shall catch a glimpse of 
 her." 
 
 Dolly raised her ears very erect and opened full her 
 nostrils as if to catch some possible scent of her, of 
 whom he spoke. She pierced the distance with her 
 eyes, but saw no one and so settled herself into an
 
 THE LOYALIST 77 
 
 easy canter, for she knew it to be more to her rider's 
 advantage to proceed at a slowing pace until they had 
 passed the house in question. 
 
 "You are an intelligent old girl, Dolly, but I must 
 not let you too far into the secrets of my mind. Still, 
 you have shared my delights and woes alike and have 
 been my one faithful friend. W|hy should I not tell 
 you?" 
 
 And yet they had been friends for no great length 
 of time. It was at Valley Forge they had met, shortly 
 after Stephen's appointment to General Washington's 
 staff. As an aide he was required to be mounted and 
 it was by a piece of good fortune that he had been 
 allowed to choose from several the chestnut mare that 
 now bore him. He had given her the best of care and 
 affection and she reciprocated in as intelligent a manner 
 as she knew how. 
 
 "You have served well, but I feel that there is much 
 greater work before us, much greater than our quest 
 of the present." 
 
 They were nearing the house. For some reason or 
 other, Dolly whinnied as he spoke, probably in acquies- 
 cence to his thought, probably in recognition of the 
 presence of her rival. She might have seen, had she 
 cared to turn her head, a trim, lithe form passing to 
 the rear of the house. Stephen took pains to see her, 
 however, and, as she turned her head, doffed his hat 
 in salute. The next moment Dolly felt the reins 
 tighten, and, whether she desired it or not, found her 
 head turned in that direction. Her rider was soon dis- 
 mounted and was leading her to the side of the road. 
 
 "You are early astir, Mistress Marjorie. I had 
 anticipated no such pleasure this morning." 
 
 "It is indeed mutual," replied Marjorie, smiling as
 
 78 THE LOYALIST 
 
 she offered him her hand. "How came you so early? 
 No new turn of events, I hope!" 
 
 "Not in the least. I desired a few hours in the 
 saddle before the heat of the day set in, and my 
 guardian angel must have directed me along this path." 
 
 Dolly raised both her ears and turned towards him, 
 while she noisily brought her hoof down upon the sod. 
 
 "What a rascal !" she thought to herself. 
 
 The girl dropped her eyes demurely and then asked 
 hurriedly: 
 
 "There are no new developments?" 
 
 "None that I know of." 
 
 "Nothing came of the trouble at the Inn?" 
 
 "Then you know?" 
 
 "All. Father told me." 
 
 "He should not have told you." 
 
 "It was my doing. I gave him no peace until I had 
 learned all." 
 
 Dolly grew weary of this pleasantry and wandered 
 away to gladden her lips on the choice morsels of the 
 tender grass. 
 
 "I deeply regret my indiscretion, though it was for 
 his sake." 
 
 "You mean ?" 
 
 "His Excellency." 
 
 "I might have done likewise, were I able. Colonel 
 Forrest is most disagreeable." 
 
 "He was not wholly culpable and so I forgave his 
 insulting remarks against us, but I forgot myself en- 
 tirely when General Washington's name was be- 
 smirched." 
 
 "I fear further trouble," she sighed. 
 
 "From him?" 
 
 She nodded her head.
 
 THE LOYALIST 79 
 
 "Nonsense! There will be naught said about the 
 whole affair and it will end where it began. Forrest 
 is no fool." 
 
 "I have other news for you, Captain," announced 
 Marjorie, her eyes beaming at the prospect. 
 
 "And how long have you been preserving it for me ?" 
 asked Stephen. 
 
 "But a few days." 
 
 "And you made no attempt to see me?" 
 
 "Had I not met you now, I would have done so this 
 day," answered Marjorie. 
 
 "You would have written?" 
 
 "Perhaps." 
 
 "It is my forfeiture to your reserve." 
 
 "And made gallantly." 
 
 "Come now! What had you to tell?" 
 
 "This. Peggy desires the honor of your company. 
 You will receive the invitation in a day or two. Just 
 an informal affair, yet I sensed the possibility of your 
 pleasure." 
 
 "You did right. I am pleased as I am honored, but 
 neither so much as I am elated at the hopes for the 
 future. Of course, I shall accept, but you will have to 
 promise to denote my path for me in the tangled maze 
 of society, in whose company I am as yet merely a 
 novice." 
 
 "Lud! I ne'er heard one so illiberal of his graces." 
 
 "Nor one more candid," Stephen rejoined as quickly. 
 If he were good at repartee he had met with one who 
 was equally as apt. 
 
 "You know the Governor will be in attendance," she 
 declared in a matter-of-fact manner. 
 
 "How should I know that? Is it unusual for him 
 to frequent the company of the gay?"
 
 8o THE LOYALIST 
 
 "Not of late, the more especially where the pres- 
 ence of Peggy is concerned," added the little tale- 
 bearer with a keen though reckless wit. 
 
 "And why Peggy?" He was innocent enough in his 
 question. 
 
 "Have you not heard of His Excellency's courting? 
 Mr. Shippen has already made public the rumor that 
 a certain great General is laying close siege to the 
 heart of Peggy. And I have Peggy's own word 
 for it." 
 
 "To Peggy?" He asked with evident surprise. 
 "Why, she but halves his age, and he is already a 
 widower." 
 
 "With three sons," Marjorie gayly added. "No 
 matter. Peggy will meet the disparity of ages by the 
 disparity of stations. She has avowed to me that no 
 one dares to question the social preeminence of the 
 Military Governor, nor the fact that he is the most 
 dashing and perhaps most successful general of the 
 Continental Army. Position in life is of prime impor- 
 tance to her." 
 
 "Is that so? I had not so judged her," was the com- 
 ment. 
 
 "She admits that herself, and makes no secret of it 
 before any one. Did you not observe her sullen silence 
 at the Ball upon learning of the identity of her inferior 
 partner? And that she sat out the major portion of 
 the dance in company with the Military Governor?" 
 
 "It escaped my attention, for I was too deeply con- 
 cerned with another matter which distracted me for 
 the entire evening," he answered with a smile. 
 
 She pretended to take no notice, however, and con- 
 tinued. 
 
 "Well, he has been calling regularly since that eve-
 
 THE LOYALIST 81 
 
 ning, and this quiet and informal function has been 
 arranged primarily in his honor, although it will not 
 be announced as such. You will go?" she asked. 
 
 "I shall be pleased to accept her invitation. May 
 I accompany you?" 
 
 "Thank you. I almost hoped you would say that. 
 Men folks are so sadly wanting in intuition." 
 
 "Friday, then? Adieu! The pleasure that awaits 
 me is immeasurable." 
 
 "Until Friday." 
 
 She extended to him her hand, which he pressed. A 
 moment later he was mounted. 
 
 "My kindest to your mother. She will understand." 
 Dolly broke into a gallop. 
 
 II 
 
 Marjorie stood at the gate post until he was quite 
 lost from view around the turn of the road. He did 
 not look back, yet she thought that he might have. 
 She slowly turned and as slowly began to walk towards 
 the house, there to resume the duties which had suf 
 fered a pleasant interruption. 
 
 Meanwhile, she tried to analyze this young man. 
 He was rather deep, of few words on any given sub- 
 ject, but wholly non-communicative as regards himself. 
 He perhaps was possessed of more intuition than his 
 manner would reveal, although he gave every appear- 
 ance of arriving at his conclusions by the sheer force 
 of logic. His words and deeds never betrayed his 
 whole mind, of that she was certain, yet he could assert 
 himself rather forcibly when put to the test, as in the 
 painful incident at the Coffee House. He would never 
 suffer from soul-paralysis, thought she, for want of
 
 82 THE LOYALIST 
 
 decision or resolution, for both were written full upon 
 him. 
 
 That she was strangely attracted to him she knew 
 very well, but why and how she was unable to discover. 
 This was but their third meeting, yet she felt as if she 
 had known him all her life, so frank, so unreserved, 
 so open, so secure did she feel in his presence. It 
 seemed the most natural thing in the world for her to 
 have waved her hand in salute to him that morning as 
 he passed; she did it with the same unconcern as if she 
 had known him all her life. She felt it within her, 
 that was all, and could give no other possible inter- 
 pretation to her action. 
 
 There was something prepossessing about him. Per- 
 haps it was his faculty for doing the unexpected. Most 
 women desire to meet a man who is possessed of a dis- 
 tinctive individuality, who lends continual interest to 
 them by his departure from the trite and commonplace. 
 What Stephen might say or do was an entirely un- 
 known quantity until it had actually taken place, and 
 this attracted her on the instant, whether she was con- 
 scious of it or not. His manner, too, was affable, and 
 gave him an air at once pleasing and good-natured. 
 He never flattered, yet said most agreeable things, 
 putting one perfectly at ease and inspiring sympathy 
 and courage. He bore himself well; erect, manly, 
 dignified, without ostentation or display. His serious- 
 ness, his evenness, his gravity, his constancy and his 
 decision stamped him with a certain authority, a man 
 of marked personality and character. 
 
 So she mused as she entered the door, her thoughts 
 in a lofty hegira to the far off land of make believe 
 her better self striving to marshal them to the cold 
 realities of duty that lay before her. She had been
 
 THE LOYALIST 83 
 
 cleaning the little addition at the rear of the dwelling 
 proper, used as a kitchen, and her work took her into 
 the yard. Dolly's whinny had caused her to turn her 
 head, and the next moment cares and responsibilities 
 and all else were forgotten. Now she wondered what 
 she had been about! Seizing a cloth she began to dust 
 industriously. The crash of one of the dishes on the 
 kitchen floor brought her to her senses. Her mother 
 heard the noise from the adjoining room. 
 
 "What ails thee, child? Hast thou lost thy reason?" 
 
 "I believe so, mommy. I must have been thinking 
 of other things." And she stooped to gather the frag- 
 ments. 
 
 "Was it Captain Meagher? I saw you two at the 
 gate." 
 
 A guilty smile stole over the corners of her mouth. 
 
 "He was passing while I was in the yard, and he 
 stopped only to wish me the greetings of the day. I 
 was right glad that he did, for I had an opportunity 
 of extending to him the invitation from Peggy." 
 
 "He will go, I suppose?" she queried, knowing well 
 what the answer might be. She did not spare the time 
 to stop for conversation, but continued with her duties. 
 
 "He is quite pleased. And, mommy, he will call for 
 me." 
 
 "Be careful, now, to break no more dishes." 
 
 "Ludl I have not lost my head yet. That was 
 purely an accident which will not happen again." 
 
 "That poor unfortunate Spangler made a better 
 defense." 
 
 "He deserved what he got. So did Lieutenant 
 Lyons and the other officers of the Ranger who de- 
 serted to the enemy. But my sympathies go out to 
 the old man who kept the gates under the city. These
 
 84 THE LOYALIST 
 
 court-martials are becoming too common and I don't 
 like them." 
 
 "That is the horrible side of war, my dear. And 
 until our people learn the value of patriotism, the need 
 of abolishing all foreign ties and strongly adhering to 
 the land that has offered them a home and a living, 
 the necessity of these dreadful measures will never 
 
 cease." 
 
 "A little power is a dangerous weapon to thrust into 
 a man's hand, unless he be great enough to wield it." 
 
 "Now you are going to say that General Arnold is 
 to blame for these tragedies." 
 
 "No, I am not. But I do think that a great deal 
 more of clemency could be exercised. Many of those 
 poor tradesmen who were convicted and sentenced to 
 be hanged could have been pardoned with equal 
 security." 
 
 "That is the law, my dear, and the law is God's will. 
 Leave all to Him." 
 
 Mrs. Allison was one of those good souls who saw 
 no harm in the vilest of creatures; faults were hidden 
 by her veil of sympathy. When distressing reverses 
 or abject despair visited any one, Mrs. Allison's affa- 
 bility and indescribable tenderness smoothed over the 
 troubled situation and brought forth a gleam of glad- 
 ness. Quiet, kindly, magnanimous, tolerant, she could 
 touch hearts to the depths in a manner both winning 
 and lasting. Whether the fault entailed a punishment 
 undeserved or inevitable, her feeling of pity was ex- 
 cited. She always sympathized without accusing or 
 probing the source of the evil. She stretched forth a 
 helping hand merely to aid. No nature, however hard,
 
 THE LOYALIST 85 
 
 could be impervious to the sympathy and the sweetness 
 of her affectionate disposition. 
 
 Motherly was the quality written full upon Mrs. 
 Allison's face. Her thoughts, her schemes, her pur- 
 poses, her ambitions of life, were all colored by this 
 maternal attribute. In her daily homage and obeisance 
 to God, Whom she worshiped with the most childlike 
 faith and simplicity; in the execution of the manifold 
 duties of her home, Marjorie was to her ever a treas- 
 ure of great price. She was sustained in her aims and 
 purposes by an enduring power of will, a power 
 clothed with the soft, warm, living flesh of a kindly 
 heart. 
 
 Her marriage with Matthew Allison had been 
 happy, a happiness intensified and concretely embodied 
 in Marjorie, the only child vouchsafed to them by the 
 Creator. How often, at the time when the deepening 
 shadows moved their way across the dimming land- 
 scape, announcing to the work worn world the close of 
 another day, would she sit for a brief while in silence 
 and take complacence in the object of her hopes and 
 aspirations! It was Marjorie for whom she lived and 
 toiled and purposed. And it was Marjorie who em- 
 bodied the sum-total of her fancies and ambitions and 
 aspirations, and translated them into definite forms 
 and realities. 
 
 Ill 
 
 A beautiful landscape unrolled itself before Stephen 
 as he leisurely rode along the Germantown road. The 
 midsummer sun was now high in the heavens, with just 
 a little stir in the air to temper its warmth and oppres- 
 siveness. Fragments of clouds, which seemed to have
 
 86 THE LOYALIST 
 
 torn themselves loose from some great heap massed 
 beyond the ridge of low hills to the westward, drifted 
 lazily across the waste of blue sky, wholly unconcerned 
 as to their ultimate lot or destination. Breaths of 
 sweet odor, from freshly cut hay or the hidden foliage 
 bounding the road, were wafted along in the embraces 
 of the gentle breeze. Away to the left and before 
 him, as his horse cantered along, swelled the country- 
 side in gentle undulations of green and brown, dis- 
 figured now and again by irregular patches of field and 
 orchard yielding to cultivation ; while to the side a stone 
 wall humped itself along the winding road into the dis- 
 tance,, its uniformity of contour broken here and there 
 by a trellis work of yellow jasmine or crimson rambler, 
 alternately reflecting lights and shadows from the pass- 
 ing clouds and sunshine. It was a day when all nature 
 was in perfect tune, its harmony sweetly blending with 
 the notes of gladness that throbbed in Stephen's heart. 
 Yet he was scarce aware of it all, so completely ab- 
 sorbed was he in the confusion of his own thought. 
 
 Stephen had a very clear idea of what he was to do 
 in the immediate present, but he had no idea at all of 
 what was to be done in the immediate future. First 
 of all he would attend Mistress Marjorie at this in- 
 formal affair, where, perhaps, he might learn more 
 about the Military Governor. He half surmised that 
 His Excellency was not kindly disposed towards Cath- 
 olics in general, although he could not remember any 
 concrete case in particular to substantiate his claim. 
 Still he knew that he was avowedly opposed to the 
 French Alliance, as were many illustrious citizens; and 
 he presumed his feelings were due in part at least to 
 the fact that France was a recognized Catholic coun- 
 try. There was a negative argument, too: no Catholic
 
 THE LOYALIST 87 
 
 name was ever found among his appointments. These 
 were but surmises, not evidence upon which to base 
 even a suspicion. Nevertheless, they were worthy of 
 some consideration until a conclusion of a more definite 
 nature was warranted. 
 
 That the Governor was becoming decidedly more 
 unpopular every day and that this unpopularity was 
 quite consequential, more consequential if anything 
 than preconceived, for it cannot be gainsaid that 
 many had frowned upon his appointment from the very 
 beginning, Meagher knew very well. Unfavorable 
 comparisons already had been drawn between the 
 gayety of life under a free country and that of a 
 colonial government. The fact that Arnold possessed 
 the finest stable of horses in the city, and entertained 
 at the most costly of dinners, at a time when the man- 
 ner of living was extremely frugal, not so much from 
 choice as from necessity, and at a time when the value 
 of the Continental currency had depreciated to almost 
 nothing, occasioned a host of acrid criticisms not only 
 in the minds of the displeased populace, but also in the 
 less friendly columns of the daily press. 
 
 Censures of the harshest nature were continually 
 uttered against the Governor's conduct of the affairs 
 of the city government together with his earlier order 
 closing the shops. Now, the use that he began to make 
 of the government wagons in moving the stores excited 
 further complaints of a more public nature, the more 
 so that no particular distinction was being made as to 
 whether the stores belonged to the Whigs or the of- 
 fending Tories. It was no idle gossip that he curried 
 favor with the upper Tory class of the city, now par- 
 ticular mention was made of his infatuation with the 
 daughter of Edward Shippen. It was whispered, too,
 
 88 THE LOYALIST 
 
 that the misuse of his authority in the grant of safe 
 passes to and from New York had led to the present 
 act of the Congress in recalling all passes. Stephen 
 knew all this and he logically surmised more; so he 
 longed for the opportunity to study intimately this man 
 now occupying the highest military post in the city 
 and the state. 
 
 For the present he would return home and bide his 
 time until Friday evening when he would have the hap- 
 piness of escorting Marjorie to the home of Peggy 
 Shippen. 
 
 "I wonder, Dolly, old girl, if I can make myself bold 
 enough to call her 'Marjorie.' 'Marjorie,' 'Mar- 
 garet,' " he repeated them over to himself. "I don't 
 know which is the prettier. She would be a pearl 
 among women, and she is, isn't she, Dolly?" 
 
 He would ask her at any rate. He would be her 
 partner for the evening, would dance with her, and 
 would sit by her side. Peggy would be there, too, and 
 the General. He would observe them closely, and 
 perchance, converse with them. Colonel Forrest and 
 the General's active aide-de-camp, Major Franks, a 
 Philadelphian, and a Jew would also be present. Alto- 
 gether the evening promised to be interesting as well 
 as happy. 
 
 He was musing in this manner when he heard the 
 hoof beats of a horse, heavily ridden, gaining upon him 
 in the rear. He drew up and half turned instinctively 
 at the strange yet familiar sound. Suddenly there hove 
 into view at the bend of the road an officer of the Con- 
 tinental Army, in full uniform, booted and spurred, 
 whose appearance caused him to turn full about to 
 await him. It was not long before he recognized the
 
 THE LOYALIST 89 
 
 familiar figure of the aide, Major Franks, and he lifted 
 his arm to salute. 
 
 "Captain Meagher, I have orders for your arrest." 
 
 "Sir?" answered Stephen in alarm. 
 
 "On charges preferred by Colonel Forrest. You 
 are to come with me at once." 
 
 An embarrassing silence ensued. 
 
 Stephen then saluted, and handed over his side arms. 
 He wheeled his horse and set off in the direction indi- 
 cated, his thoughts in a turmoil. 
 
 The Major fell in at the rear.
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 "For still my mem'ry lingers on the scenes 
 And pleasures of the days beyond recall." 
 
 Peggy's voice, timid, soft though pretty, died away 
 into an enraptured silence which seemed to endure for 
 the longest while before the room burst into a gener- 
 ous measure of applause. She was very well accom- 
 panied on the clavichord by Miss Rutteledge and on 
 the harp by Monsieur Ottow, Secretary to the French 
 Minister. The evening had been delightful; the as- 
 sembly brilliant in quality, and unaffectedly congenial 
 and diverting. The music had contributed much to the 
 pleasures of the function, for the Shippens' was one of 
 the few homes in the city where such a resource was 
 at all possible. 
 
 "Major! Major Franks! What do you think of 
 my little girl? Do you think 'twould be well for her 
 to cultivate such a voice?" 
 
 Mrs. Shippen turned sideways. There was gratifi- 
 cation, genuine, complacent gratification, visible in 
 every line of her smiling face. 
 
 "Splendid! Splendid! Of course. Madame, she 
 sings very prettily," replied the Major, gathering him- 
 self from the state of partial repose into which he had 
 fallen. 
 
 He sat up. 
 
 "And do you know, Major," went on the fond 
 
 90
 
 THE LOYALIST 91 
 
 mother, "she never had a tutor, except some of our 
 dear friends who made this their home during the 
 winter." 
 
 "You mean the British?" 
 
 "Of course they did not make so free with every- 
 body in the city, with only a few, you know. It was 
 for General Howe himself that Margaret first made 
 bold enough to sing." 
 
 "She does very well, I am sure," was the reply. 
 
 The little group again lapsed into silence as Peggy 
 responded with an encore, this selection being a pa- 
 triotic air of a lighter vein. The Major again lapsed 
 into an easy attitude, but Mrs. Shippen was visibly 
 intent upon every motion of the singer and followed 
 her every syllable. 
 
 "How much does music contribute to one's pleas- 
 ure!" she remarked when the conversation began to 
 stir. 
 
 "It is charming," Mr. Anderson observed. 
 
 "And do you know that we inherited that clavi- 
 chord? It is one of the oldest in the country." 
 
 "It appears to be of rare design," remarked Mr. 
 Anderson, as his eyes pierced the distance in a steady 
 observance of it. 
 
 "It belonged to Mr. Shippen's father," she boasted. 
 "This house, you know, was the home of Edward 
 Shippen, who was Mayor of the city over an hundred 
 years ago. It was then, if I do say it, the most pre- 
 tentious home in the city. My husband was for dis- 
 posing of it and removing to less fashionable quarters, 
 but I would not hear of it. Never!" 
 
 Major Franks surveyed the great room deliberately. 
 
 " 'Twould make a fine castle!" he commented as he 
 half turned and crossed one knee over the other. He
 
 92 THE LOYALIST 
 
 felt that this would be his last visit if he continued to 
 take any less interest, yet even that apparently caused 
 him no great concern. 
 
 And yet, a great house it was, the quondam residence 
 of Edward Shippen, the progenitor of the present fam- 
 ily, a former Mayor of the city, who had fled thither 
 from Boston where he had suffered persecution at the 
 hands of the Puritans who could not allow him to be a 
 Quaker. It stood on an eminence outside the city. It 
 was well surrounded, with its great orchard, its summer 
 house, its garden smiling with roses, and lilies; bor- 
 dered by rows of yellow pines shading the rear, with a 
 spacious green lawn away to the front affording an 
 unobstructed view of the city and the Delaware shore. 
 It was a residence of pretentious design and at the 
 time of its construction was easily the most sumptuous 
 home in the city. 
 
 The Shippens had been the leaders of the fashion- 
 able set, not alone in days gone by, the days of colonial 
 manners when diversions and enjoyments were indulged 
 in as far as the austerities of the staid old Quaker code 
 would allow; but also during the days of the present 
 visitation of the British, when emulation in the enter- 
 tainment of the vistors ran riot among the townsfolk. 
 Small wonder that the present lord of the manor felt 
 constrained to write to his father that he should be 
 under the necessity of removing from this luxurious 
 abode to Lancaster, "for the style of living my fashion- 
 able daughters have introduced into my family and 
 their dress will I fear before long oblige me to change 
 the scene." Yet if the truth were told, the style of 
 living inaugurated by the ambitious daughters was no 
 less a heritage than a part of the discipline in which 
 they had been reared.
 
 THE LOYALIST 93 
 
 If the sudden and forced departure of the dashing 
 as well as the eligible British Officers from the city had 
 totally upset the cherished social aspirations of the 
 mother of the Shippen girls, the advent of the gallant 
 and unmarried Military Governor had lifted them to a 
 newer and much higher plane of endeavor. The 
 termination of a matrimonial alliance with the second 
 in command of the patriotic forces not less than the 
 foremost in rank of the city gentry, would more than 
 compensate for the loss of a possible British peerage. 
 Theirs was a proud lineage to boast of and a mode of 
 unfeigned comfort and display. And it took but the 
 briefest possible time for the artful mother to discern 
 that her clever and subtle devices were beginning to 
 meet with some degree of success. 
 
 The present function was wholly her affair, and 
 while it was announced as a purely informal gathering, 
 the manner and the scheme of the decorations, the 
 elegance and the care with which the women dressed, 
 the order, the appointments, the refreshments, not to 
 mention the distinguished French visitors, would per- 
 mit no one to surmise that, even for a moment. Care 
 had been taken to issue invitations to the representative 
 members of the city's upper class, more especially to 
 the newly arrived French Officers and their wives, as 
 well as the commissioned members of the Continental 
 Army. There were the Shippen girls, their persistent 
 friend, Miss Chew, as well as Miss Franks, whose 
 brother was now attached to the staff of General 
 Arnold, and a dozen other young ladies, all attractive, 
 and dressed in the prevailing elegance of fashion; the 
 hair in an enormous coiffure, in imitation of the fash- 
 ions of the French, with turbans of gauze and spangles 
 and ropes of pearls, the low bodices with the bow in
 
 94 THE LOYALIST 
 
 front, the wide sashes below. It was an altogether 
 brilliant assembly, with the Military Governor the 
 most brilliant of all. 
 
 "Tell me, Major," asked Mrs. Shippen in measured 
 and subdued language as she leaned forward in an 
 apparently confidential manner, "does General Arnold 
 visit often?" 
 
 "Oh, yes!" replied the Major at once, "he is very 
 generous with his company." 
 
 Her face fell somewhat. 
 
 "Now, isn't that strange? I was told that he made 
 a practice of calling at no home outside of ours." 
 
 He uncrossed his leg and shifted in his chair rather 
 uneasily. 
 
 "Quite true." He saw at once that he had made an 
 unhappy remark. "But of course he makes no social 
 calls, none whatsoever. You must know that the af- 
 fairs of state require all of his time, for which duty 
 he is obliged to visit many people on matters of pure 
 business." 
 
 "Oh!" 
 
 She appeared satisfied at this explanation. 
 
 "It seems as if we had known him all our lives. He 
 feels so perfectly at home with us." 
 
 "Exactly." 
 
 "You have met him often with us, haven't you, 
 Marjorie?" 
 
 "I first met him at the Military Ball through Peggy," 
 Marjorie replied nai'vely. 
 
 "But you must have met him here. He has been 
 here so often," she insisted. 
 
 "Then I vow our General has felt the smite of your 
 fair daughter's charms," remarked Mr. Anderson.
 
 THE LOYALIST 95 
 
 Marjorie breathed a sigh of relief at the timely 
 interruption. 
 
 "Do you really think so?" asked Mrs. Shippen, with 
 no attempt to conceal her impatience. 
 
 "Unquestionably. 
 
 'Smiles from reason flow, 
 To brute denied, and are of love the food.' 
 
 So sang the bard, and so sing I of His Excellency." 
 
 "But his age ! He cannot now be thinking of matri- 
 mony." 
 
 "Age, my dear Mrs. Shippen, is a matter of feeling, 
 not of years. The greatest miracle of love is to eradi- 
 cate all disparity. Before it age, rank, lineage, dis- 
 tinction dissolve like the slowly fading light of the sun 
 at eventide. The General is bent on conquest; that 
 I'll wager. What say you, Major? A five pound 
 note?" 
 
 "Not I. 'Old men are twice children,' you know." 
 
 "Well, if I do say it," remarked Mrs. Shippen, "my 
 daughter has had a splendid education and is as cul- 
 tured a girl as there is in the city and would make a 
 fitting helpmate for any man, no matter what his posi- 
 tion in life may be." 
 
 The orchestra began to fill the room with the strains 
 of the minuet. Mr. Anderson arose and advanced 
 towards Marjorie. 
 
 "May I have the pleasure of your company?" he 
 said. 
 
 Marjorie arose and gave him her arm. 
 
 II 
 
 She tripped through the graces of the minuet in a 
 mechanical sort of a fashion, her thoughts in a far off
 
 96 THE LOYALIST 
 
 land of amazement and gloomy desolation. The un- 
 expected and adverse stroke of fortune which had 
 descended with hawk-like velocity upon Stephen had 
 thoroughly disconcerted her. Try as she would, her 
 imagination could not be brought under her control. 
 There was one image that would not out, and that was 
 Stephen's. 
 
 A short note from him gave the first inkling to her. 
 He had been placed under arrest by order of Major- 
 General Arnold on the charge of striking his superior 
 officer, in violation of the Fifth Article, Second Sec- 
 tion of the American Articles of War. The charge 
 had been preferred on the evening previous to his 
 arrest and bore the signature of Colonel Forrest, with 
 whom, she called to mind, he had participated in the 
 affray at the Inn. 
 
 Little would come of it. Of that she could rest 
 assured. For if he chose to present his side of the 
 case, cause might be found against the Colonel in the 
 matter of disrespectful language against the Com- 
 mander-in-chief. On that account the affair would 
 very probably end where it had begun and his sword 
 would once more be restored to him. Should the 
 Colonel press the case, however, it would result in a 
 court-martial, that being the usual tribunal before 
 which such matters were tried. 
 
 For the present he was under arrest. He was not 
 confined and no limits were assigned to him in the 
 order of his arrest, yet he was deprived of his sword 
 and therefore without power to exercise any military 
 command pending his trial. Since it was considered 
 indecorous in an officer under arrest to appear at public 
 places, it would be impossible for him to accompany 
 her to the home of the Shippens on Friday evening.
 
 THE LOYALIST 97 
 
 This caused him the greater concern, yet his word of 
 honor obliged him to await either the issue of his trial 
 or his enlargement by the proper authority. 
 
 He bade her be of good cheer and asked a remem- 
 brance in her prayers, assuring her she would be ever 
 present in his thoughts. Since he was allowed the use 
 of his personal liberty, he would soon make use of a 
 favorable opportunity to pay her a call. Until then, 
 he could tell her no more, save the desire to have her 
 attend the party and to enjoy herself to the utmost. 
 
 From the moment of her receipt of this letter, she 
 had rehearsed the incidents therein narrated over and 
 over again. Go where she would her thought followed 
 her as instinctively as the homeward trail of the bee. 
 Reflection possessed her and she was lost in the intri- 
 cate maze of the world of fancy. 
 
 To follow mere instinct does not beseem a man, 
 yet for woman this faculty is the height of reason and 
 will be trusted by her to the very end. Marjorie's in- 
 stinct told her that all would not be well with Stephen, 
 notwithstanding his place of honor on the staff of the 
 Commander-in-chief, to whom he might readily appeal 
 should the occasion require. The charge was of minor 
 consequence, and could under ordinary circumstances 
 be dismissed ; but it would not be dismissed. He would 
 be tried, found guilty, and sentenced. A consummation 
 too horrible for thought! 
 
 She could not enjoy herself at Peggy's function, that 
 she knew. But she must attend, if for no other reason 
 than for appearance. The strange regard for this 
 officer, which she had discovered to be growing daily 
 in intensity and depth, had been brought to definite 
 realization by the sudden crisis in Stephen's fortunes. 
 The sudden revelation of this truth from which she
 
 98 THE LOYALIST 
 
 was wont to recoil with petulant diffidence alarmed her 
 not a little. She must not allow herself to be perturbed 
 over this incident, and no one, not even her mother, 
 must ever be permitted to detect the slightest concern 
 on her part. 
 
 "You seem unusually preoccupied this evening, 
 Mistress Allison," remarked Mr. Anderson as he led 
 her to one side of the room at the conclusion of the 
 dance. 
 
 Marjorie started. She could feel herself coloring 
 into a deep scarlet, which endured the more as she 
 strove desperately to retain her natural composure. 
 
 "I? Why? No! Did I appear absent-minded?" 
 
 "As if sojourning in some far off land." 
 
 She thought for a moment. 
 
 "We all inhabit dream countries." 
 
 "True. We do. And there is no swifter vehicle to 
 that fair land than an inattentive companion." 
 
 "You mean " 
 
 "That I am entirely at fault for allowing you to 
 wander there." 
 
 "You are unkind to yourself to say that." 
 
 "I vow I mean it." 
 
 They neared the settee into which he gallantly as- 
 sisted her. She made room for him by drawing back 
 the folds of her gown. 
 
 "Have you ever had a miniature made?" he asked 
 of her. 
 
 "Never. I scarce gave it a thought," she replied 
 nonchalantly. 
 
 "In that gown, you would make a perfect picture." 
 
 "Couldst thou paint it?" she asked quickly with the 
 attitude of one who has proposed an impossible ques- 
 tion.
 
 THE LOYALIST 99 
 
 "Aye, and willingly, would I," he smartly replied. 
 
 "I should love to see it. I should scarce know mine 
 own face." 
 
 She regarded the subject with ridicule, observing as 
 she spoke the end of the sash with which her fingers 
 had been fumbling. 
 
 "You shall see it as it is with no artful flattery to 
 disfigure it. May I bring it in person? The post- 
 rider's bag is too unworthy a messenger." 
 
 "Lud! I shall be unable to restrain my curiosity 
 and await the carrier." 
 
 "Then I shall be the carrier." 
 
 "Nothing would afford me more pleasure." 
 
 Neither of the two spoke for a moment. 
 
 She wondered if she were imprudent. While she 
 had not known this man before this evening, still she 
 knew of him as the one who took part in the disturb- 
 ance at the Coffee House. 
 
 He seemed unusually attentive to her, although not 
 unpleasantly so, and innocently enough the question 
 presented itself to her as to the import of his motives. 
 He had sought no information nor did he disclose any 
 concerning himself, for at no time did their conversa- 
 tion arise to any plane above the commonplace. Yet 
 she was willing to see him again and to discover, if 
 possible, the true state of his mind. 
 
 Stephen, she knew, would approve of her action; 
 not only because of the personal satisfaction which 1 
 might be derived therefrom, but also because of the 
 possibilities which such a meeting might unfold. That 
 Anderson was prompted by some ulterior motive and 
 that he was not attracted so much by her charms as by 
 the desire of seeking some advantage, she was keen 
 enough to sense. Just what this quest might lead to
 
 ioo THE LOYALIST 
 
 could not be fathomed, yet it presented at all hazards 
 a situation worthy of more than a passing notice. 
 
 She mistrusted General Arnold, a mere opinion it 
 was true, for she possessed no evidence to warrant even 
 a suspicion, yet something about the man created within 
 her heart a great want of confidence and reliance. He 
 was supremely overbearing and unusually sensitive. 
 This, together with his vaulting ambition and love of 
 display, traits which even the merest novice could not 
 fail to observe, might render him capable of the most 
 brilliant achievements, such as his exploits before the 
 walls of Quebec and on the field of Saratoga, or of 
 unwise and wholly irresponsible actions, of some of 
 which, although of minor consequence, he had been 
 guilty during the past few months. He disliked her 
 form of religious worship, and she strongly suspected 
 this was the reason he so openly opposed the alliance 
 with the French. She regarded this prejudice as a 
 sad misfortune in a man of authority. His judgments 
 were liable to be clouded and unfair. 
 
 She knew Pegy like a book and she could easily 
 imagine the inJkence such a girl could exert, as a wife, 
 on a man so constituted. Peggy's social ambition and 
 her marked passion for display and domination, traits 
 no less apparent in her than in her mother, would lead 
 her to view the overtures of her impetuous suitor with 
 favor, notwithstanding the fact that he was almost 
 double her own age. As his wife she would attain a 
 social prestige. She was a Tory at heart, and he evi- 
 denced at sundry times the same inclinations. She was 
 a Quaker, while he belonged to the religion of His 
 Majesty, the King; nevertheless, both agreed in this, 
 that the miserable Papists were an ambitious and crafty 
 lot, who were bent on obtaining an early and complete
 
 THE LOYALIST 101 
 
 mastery over this country. The pair were well mated 
 in many respects, thought Marjorie, the disparity in 
 their ages was all that would render the match at all 
 irregular, although Peggy's more resolute will and in- 
 tense ambition would make her the dominant member 
 of the alliance. Little as the General suspected it, 
 Marjorie thought, he was slowly, though surely, being 
 encircled in the web which Peggy and her artful mother 
 were industriously spinning about him. 
 
 Ill 
 
 Marjorie and Anderson sat conversing long and 
 earnestly. Several dances were announced and en- 
 gaged in, with little or no manifest attention on their 
 part, so engrossed were they in the matter of more 
 serious import. At length they deserted their vantage 
 ground for the more open and crowded room, pausing 
 before Peggy and the General, who were sheltered 
 near the entrance. 
 
 "Heigho, John!" exclaimed His Excellency upon 
 their approach, "what strange absconding is this? 
 Have a care, my boy, lest you have to answer to 
 Captain Meagher." 
 
 Marjorie felt the gaze of the group full upon her. 
 She flushed a little. 
 
 "Little or no danger, nor cause alleged," she 
 laughed. 
 
 "Captain Meagher!" recollected Anderson, "does 
 he excel?" 
 
 "I scarce know," replied Marjorie. "I have met 
 him not over thrice in my life." 
 
 "Once is quite sufficient," said the General. "First 
 impressions often endure. But stay. Draw your
 
 102 THE LOYALIST 
 
 chairs. I was only saying that I may be required to 
 leave here shortly." 
 
 "You have been transferred?" asked Marjorie. 
 
 "No! But I have written to Washington begging 
 for a command in the navy. My wounds are in a fair 
 way and less painful than usual, though there is little 
 prospect of my being able to be in the field for a con- 
 siderable time." 
 
 They sat down as requested, opposite Peggy and 
 the General. 
 
 "But, General, have you not taken us into your con- 
 sideration?" asked Anderson. 
 
 "I have, yet the criticism is becoming unendurable. 
 Of course you have heard that matters have already 
 become strained between the civil government and my- 
 self. Only last week my head aide-de-camp sent for a 
 barber who was attached to a neighboring regiment, 
 using as a messenger the orderly whom I had stationed 
 at the door. For this trifling order there has been 
 aroused a hornet's nest." 
 
 "Wherein lay the fault?" asked Marjorie. 
 
 "In this. It appears from a letter which I have 
 already received from the father of the sergeant 
 (Matlack is his name, to be exact) that the boy was 
 hurt by the order itself and the manner of it, and as a 
 freeman would not submit to such an indignity as to 
 summon a barber for the aide of a commanding officer. 
 We have a proud, stubborn people to rule, who are no 
 more fitted for self-government than the Irish " 
 
 He stopped short. 
 
 Marjorie bit her lip. "I wish, General, you would 
 withdraw your comparison. It is painful to me." 
 
 "I am sorry, Mistress Allison. As a matter of fact 
 I hardly knew what I had said. I do withdraw it."
 
 THE LOYALIST 103 
 
 "Thank you so much." 
 
 Then he went on. 
 
 "These Americans are not only ungrateful, but 
 stupidly arrogant. What comparison can be drawn 
 between this dullard, Matlack, whose feelings as a 
 citizen were hurt by an order of an aide-de-camp, and 
 I, when I was obliged to serve a whole campaign 
 under the command of a gentleman who was not known 
 as a soldier until I had been some time a brigadier. 
 My feelings had to be sacrificed to the interest of my 
 country. Does not the fool know that I became a 
 soldier and bear the marks upon me, to vindicate the 
 rights of citizens?" 
 
 He talked rapidly, yet impassionately. It was plain, 
 however, that he was seriously annoyed over the turn 
 of events, on which subject he conversed with his 
 whole being. He made gestures with violence. His 
 face became livid. His attitude was menacing. 
 
 "On my arrival here, my very first act was con- 
 demned. It became my duty, because of sealed orders 
 from the Commander-in-chief, who enclosed a resolu- 
 tion adopted by Congress, to close the shops. From 
 the day, censure was directed against me. I was not 
 the instigator of it. Yet I was all to blame." 
 
 He sat up with his hands on his knees, looking 
 fiercely into the next room. 
 
 "I would not feel so bitter, your Excellency," volun- 
 teered Anderson. "Military orders, however neces- 
 sary, always seem oppressive to civilians and shop- 
 keepers." 
 
 "I have labored well for the cause, and my reward 
 has been this. I took Ticonderoga, although Allen 
 got the credit for it. I would have taken Canada, if 
 Congress had not blundered. I saved Lake Champlain
 
 104 THE LOYALIST 
 
 with my flotilla, a fleet that lived to no better pur- 
 pose nor died more gloriously, and for this I got no 
 promotion, nor did I expect one. I won at Ridgefield 
 and received a Major-Generalship, only to find myself 
 outranked by five others. At Saratoga I was without 
 a command, yet I succeeded in defeating an army. For 
 that service I was accused of being drunk by the gen- 
 eral in command, who, for his service, received a gold 
 medal with a vote of thanks from Congress, while I 
 well, the people gave me their applause; Congress gave 
 me a horse, but what I prize more than all, these 
 sword knots," he took hold of them as he spoke, "a 
 personal offering from the Commander-in-chief. I 
 gave my all. I received a few empty honors and the 
 ingratitude of a jealous people." 
 
 He paused. 
 
 "General," began Marjorie, "you know the people 
 still worship you and they do want you for their 
 popular leader." 
 
 "I know differently," he snapped back. "I have 
 already petitioned Congress for a grant of land in 
 western New York, where I intend to lead the kind 
 of life led by my friend Schuyler in Livingston, or the 
 Van Renssalaers and other country gentlemen. My 
 ambition now js to be a good citizen, for I intend never 
 to draw a sword on the American side." 
 
 He again grew silent. 
 
 Whether he was sincere \n his remarks, and his 
 manner of expression seemingly revealed no other dis- 
 position of mind, or was swayed simply by some un- 
 founded antipathy which caused the image of his aver- 
 sion to become a sort of hallucination, Marjorie could 
 not decide. She knew him to be impulsive and irre- 
 pressible, a man who, because of his deficiency in
 
 THE LOYALIST 105 
 
 breadth, scope of intelligence, and strong moral con- 
 victions, invariably formed his opinions in public mat- 
 ter on his personal feelings. He was a man of moods, 
 admirably suited withal for a command in the field 
 where bluntness and abruptness of manner could cause 
 him to rise to an emergency, but wholly unfitted for 
 this reason for a diplomatic office where the utmost 
 delicacy of tact and nicety of decision are habitually 
 required. 
 
 She knew, moreover, that he ever bore a fierce 
 grudge towards Congress for the slights which it had 
 put upon him, and that this intense feeling, together 
 with his indomitable self-will, had brought him into 
 conflict with the established civil authority. He was 
 Military Governor of the city and adjacent country- 
 side, yet there existed an Executive Council of Penn- 
 sylvania for the care of the state, and the line of de- 
 marcation between the two powers never had been 
 clearly drawn. Accordingly there soon arose many 
 occasions for dispute, which a more even-tempered man 
 would have had the foresight to avoid. His point of 
 view was narrow, not only in affairs civil and political, 
 but it must be said, in social and religious as well. Of 
 all commanders, he was the most unsuited for the task. 
 
 Furthermore she knew that he was becoming de- 
 cidedly more unpopular each day, not only because of 
 the extravagance in his manner of living, but also be- 
 cause of his too frequent association with the Tory 
 element of the city. While the British had held the 
 city many of the more aristocratic inhabitants had 
 given them active aid and encouragement, much to the 
 displeasure of the more loyal though less important 
 lower class. Consequently when the days of the evacua- 
 tion had come and the city had settled down once again
 
 io6 THE LOYALIST 
 
 to its former style of living, many of the Tory element 
 were compelled to leave town while those who had 
 remained behind were practically proscribed. Small 
 wonder was it that indignation ran riot when the first 
 Military Governor openly cast his lot with the enemies 
 of the cause and consorted with them freely and fre- 
 quently. 
 
 It was entirely possible that he would abide by his 
 decision to resign all public office and retire to private 
 life, notwithstanding the fact that he already had at 
 this same moment despatched a letter to General 
 Washington requesting a command in the navy. But 
 she read him differently and found herself surprised 
 to learn of his intended withdrawal, for his very nature 
 seemed to indicate that he would fight his cause to the 
 bitter end, and that end one of personal satisfaction 
 and revenge. 
 
 Several of the guests prepared to depart. The little 
 group disbanded as Peggy made her way to their side. 
 
 Marjorie and John Anderson lost each other for 
 the first time in the melee which ensued. 
 
 IV 
 
 "Perhaps I ought to return," Marjorie muttered to 
 herself, now that she was quite alone. "I am sure that 
 he dropped something." 
 
 And she began to retrace her steps. 
 
 She felt positive that she saw General Arnold acci- 
 dently dislodge what appeared to be a folded note 
 from his belt when he took hold of the sword knots in 
 the course of his conversation. Very likely it was a 
 report of some nature, which had been hurriedly 
 thrust into his belt during some more preoccupied mo-
 
 THE LOYALIST 107 
 
 ment. At any rate it might be safer in her hands than 
 to be left to some less interested person. She would 
 investigate at any rate and resolve her doubts. 
 
 Sure enough, there it was. Just behind the arm- 
 chair in which he had been seated but a few moments 
 before. None of the others had observed it, she 
 thought, for she alone was in a position, a little to his 
 left, to notice it, when it had become loosed. 
 
 She picked it up and regarded it carelessly, nervous- 
 ly, peering the while into the great room beyond to 
 discover, if possible, an eye-witness to her secret. 
 From its appearance it was no more than a friendly 
 communication written on conventional letter paper. 
 It was unsealed, or rather the seal had been broken 
 and from the wrinkled condition of the paper gave 
 evidence of not a little handling. It belonged to 
 Peggy. There was no doubt about that, for there was 
 her name in heavy bold script on the outside. 
 
 She balanced it in her hand, weighing, at the same 
 time, within her mind, one or two possibilities. She 
 might read it and then, if the matter required it, return 
 it immediately to His Excellency with an explanation. 
 Yet it would smack of dishonor to read the private 
 correspondence of another without a sufficiently grave 
 reason. It belonged to Peggy, who, in all probability, 
 had been acquainting the General with its contents as 
 Mr. Anderson and herself intruded upon the scene. 
 She therefore resolved to return it unread. 
 
 Hastily folding it, she stuck it into her bodice, and 
 made her way into the room where she became lost 
 among the guests. There would be time enough when 
 the formalities of the departure were over, when 
 Peggy was less occupied, to hand it her. She would 
 wait at any rate until later in the evening.
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 But she did not return the paper. For with the 
 commotion of the guests in the several orders of their 
 going, a serious business of felicitation and devoir was 
 demanded alongside of which all other matters only 
 served as distractions. Consequently, the note once 
 placed within her bodice, all thought of it vanished for 
 the remainder of the evening. 
 
 Only when she had returned home that night, fa- 
 tigued and almost disgusted with the perfunctory per- 
 formances of the evening, did she discover it, and then 
 not until she was about to remove the garment within 
 whose folds it lay concealed. It fell to the ground ; she 
 stooped to pick it up. 
 
 "Oh, dear! I quite forgot it. I must attend to it 
 the first thing in the morning." 
 
 And she placed it on the dresser where it could not 
 escape her eye. Then she retired. 
 
 But she did not sleep. There she lay wide awake 
 tossing nervously to and fro. She tried to close her 
 eyes only to find them wandering about the room in 
 the obscure dimness, focusing themselves now on the 
 old mahogany dresser, now on the little prie-Dieu 
 against the inner wall with the small ivory crucifix out- 
 lined faintly above it, now on the clwntz hangings that 
 covered the window. She could hea/ Her heart, pound- 
 ing its great weight of bitterness against the pillow; 
 
 108
 
 THE LOYALIST 109 
 
 and as she listened she thought of Stephen's arrest and 
 of its thousand and one horrible consequences. She 
 tried to congratulate herself on her sweet serenity and 
 the serenity only mocked her and anticipation loomed 
 as fiercely as before. 
 
 The next she knew was a quiet awakening, as if her 
 mother's hand had been put gently on her arm. Out- 
 side ten thousand light leaves shivered gently and the 
 birds were calling to one another in melodious tones. 
 This was her first glimpse of the day and it sent her 
 suddenly to her knees. 
 
 Stephen came late that afternoon. He had not been 
 expected; yet she was happy because he came. She 
 had done little that day; had not left the house, nor 
 dressed for the occasion. The note was where she had 
 left it, and all reference to it buried with her thoughts 
 of the evening. 
 
 "I cannot yet tell how it has been decided. They 
 went into executive session at once." 
 
 "But . . . Surely . . . They could not find you 
 guilty?" 
 
 "Oh, well." 
 
 "Please . . . Won't you tell me?" 
 
 "There is little to tell. It was very brief." 
 
 He could not become enthusiastic. 
 
 "Then you were put to trial?" she asked with an 
 apprehension uncertain in quality. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Goon. Tell me." 
 
 He was silent. He desired to withhold nothing 
 from her, yet he could not find the words he wanted. 
 
 "What happened?" She was persistent. 
 
 "Well . . I don't know. . . I soured on the whole
 
 no THE LOYALIST 
 
 proceeding. The court-martial met, the Regimental 
 Court Martial, with three members. This was permis- 
 sible. They began, reading the charge as preferred 
 by Colonel Forrest, which was to the effect that I had 
 been guilty of striking my superior officer, Colonel 
 Forrest, by attempting to choke him. To this was 
 added the accusation of abusive, threatening language 
 as well as a threat of murder. I, of course, pleaded 
 not guilty; nor did I prepare any defense. The affair 
 was so trivial that I was surprised that it ever had 
 been brought to trial." 
 
 "How long did the proceedings last?" 
 
 "They were very brief. Several witnesses were ex- 
 amined, the chief one being Mr. Anderson." 
 
 "I know him," remarked Marjorie. 
 
 "You know him?" 
 
 "I met him last evening at Shippens.' ' 
 
 "Did he say aught about me?" 
 
 "Not a word." 
 
 "Well, he appeared against me. After a few more 
 preliminary questions I was put on the stand in my 
 own defense. I told briefly the circumstances which 
 led to the incident (I would not call it an assault, for 
 I continually maintained it to be of a trivial nature 
 and worthy only of an explanation). I told how the 
 Colonel had used certain derogatory remarks against 
 the faith that I believed and practiced, which occa- 
 sioned a violent argument. This, I think, was the great 
 mistake I made, for it appeared to make an unfavor- 
 able impression upon the Court. In this respect they 
 were unquestionably on the side of Forrest. Then I 
 related the remark incident to my action, and an- 
 nounced that I would repeat the deed under similar 
 circumstances were the same disrespectful language
 
 THE LOYALIST in 
 
 directed against the Commander-in-chief. This, I 
 fear, made little impression either since I was already 
 attached to the staff of General Washington.- And a 
 jealous rival general was about to decide my guilt. 
 That ended it. I was excused and the Court ad- 
 journed." 
 
 He paused. 
 
 "For these reasons I have serious misgivings as to 
 my fate." 
 
 "What can happen to you?" 
 
 "I do not know. It may result in a suspension, and 
 it may result in a verdict of 'not guilty. 1 " 
 
 "Will you know very soon?" 
 
 "I shall be summoned before them." 
 
 Neither spoke for a time. 
 
 "Do you know," observed Marjorie, "I greatly 
 mistrust General Arnold and I fear that he already has 
 decided against you." 
 
 "What causes you to say that?" 
 
 "Well ... I don't know ... I just think it. While 
 listening to him last evening I drew that impression." 
 
 "Did he say anything against us?" 
 
 "He is enraged at Congress and he has long felt 
 persecuted and insulted by the people. He desires a 
 command in the navy and has already written Wash- 
 ington to that effect; and again he would petition Con- 
 gress for a grant of land in New York where he would 
 retire to private life, for he vows he never will again 
 draw sword on the American side." 
 
 "Did he say this?" asked Stephen. 
 
 "He did." 
 
 "Do you think that he was sincere?'* 
 
 "I really do. He talked with all the earnestness of
 
 ii2 THE LOYALIST 
 
 a man of conviction. Somehow or other I greatly mis- 
 trust him. And he is extremely bigoted." 
 
 "I rather suspect this, although I have had no proofs 
 of it. If he is, it will out very soon." 
 
 "And you may be assured, too, that he will have an 
 able adjutant in Peggy. She is his counterpart in every 
 particular." 
 
 He looked at her as she spoke, and was amazed by 
 the excitement in her face. She talked excitedly; her 
 eyes, those large vivacious brown eyes that looked out 
 of her pretty oval face, were alight, and her face had 
 gone pale. 
 
 "I was interested in them last evening and with the 
 apparent zeal displayed by Peggy's mother in favor 
 of the match. I would not be surprised to hear of an 
 announcement from that source at any time." 
 
 "Has it reached that stage?" 
 
 "Most assuredly! I decided that they already are 
 on terms of intimacy where secrets now obtain a com- 
 mon value." 
 
 "You think that?" 
 
 "Well ... I do. . . . Yes. I know, for instance 
 that he had a letter in his possession which was ad- 
 dressed to her, which letter had its origin in New 
 York." 
 
 "How came he by it?" 
 
 "She must have given it to him. I have it now." 
 
 "You have it?" 
 
 He sat up very much surprised. 
 
 "Where did you get it?" 
 
 "I found it." 
 
 "Did you read it?" 
 
 "No."
 
 THE LOYALIST 113 
 
 She smiled at him, and at his great perplexity over 
 the apparent mystery. 
 
 And then she told him of the little party; of herself 
 and Mr. Anderson, and their intrusion upon General 
 Arnold and Peggy; of their conversation and the fall- 
 ing of the note; of her subsequent return for it to- 
 gether with the placing of it within her bodice and the 
 state of temporary oblivion into which the incident 
 finally had lapsed. 
 
 "You have that letter now?" he asked with no at- 
 tempt to conceal his anxiety. 
 
 "Yes. Upstairs." 
 
 "May I see it? Really I would not ask this did I 
 not think it quite important." 
 
 "Very well." 
 
 She left to fetch it. 
 
 "Who is this man, Anderson?" Stephen asked upon 
 her return. "Do you know him?" 
 
 "No. But he is very engaging. He was my partner 
 during the evening." 
 
 She did not deem it wise to tell him everything, at 
 least not at this time. 
 
 "How long have you known him?" he inquired im- 
 patiently. 
 
 She smiled sweetly at him. 
 
 "Since last night," was the brief response. 
 
 "Where did he come from?" 
 
 "I scarce know. You yourself mentioned his name 
 for the first time to me. I was greatly surprised when 
 presented to him last night." 
 
 "Did he come with General Arnold's party, or is he 
 a friend of Peggy's?" 
 
 "I don't think Peggy knew him before, although
 
 ii 4 THE LOYALIST 
 
 she may have met him with some of the officers before 
 last evening. I should imagine from what you already 
 know that he is acquainted with the Governor's party 
 and through them received an invitation to be present. 
 
 "Did he say aught of himself?" 
 
 "Scarcely a thing. He has not been a resident of 
 the city for any length of time, but where he origi- 
 nated, or what he purposes, I did not learn. I rather 
 like him. He is well-mannered, refined and richly 
 talented." 
 
 "I sensed immediattly that he was endowed with 
 engaging personal qualities, and gifted with more than 
 ordinary abilities," Stephen commented. "I have yet 
 to learn his history, which is one of my duties, notwith- 
 standing the unfortunate state of affairs which has 
 lately come to pass." 
 
 He stopped and took the letter which she held out 
 to him. He opened it and read it carefully. Then 
 he deliberately read it again. 
 
 "You say no one knows of this?" 
 
 "I am quite sure. Certainly no one saw me find it, 
 although I am not certain that I alone saw it fall." 
 
 "You are sure that it was in the Governor's pos- 
 session?" 
 
 "Quite. I saw it distinctly in his belt. I saw it fall 
 to the ground when he caught hold of the sword 
 knots." 
 
 He leaned forward and reflected for a moment 
 with his eyes intent on the note which he held opened 
 before him. Suddenly he sat back in his chair and 
 looked straight at her. 
 
 "Marjorie," he said, "you promised to be of what- 
 ever assistance you could. Do you recall that 
 promise?"
 
 THE LOYALIST 115 
 
 "Very well." 
 
 "Will you lend your assistance to me now?" 
 
 She hesitated, wondering to what extent the demand 
 might be made. 
 
 "Are you unwilling?" he asked, for he perceived her 
 timid misgiving. 
 
 "No. What is it you want me to do?" 
 
 "Simply this. Let me have this note." 
 
 She deliberated. 
 
 "Would not that be unfair to Peggy?" 
 
 She feared that her sense of justice was being vio- 
 lated. 
 
 "She does not know that you have it." 
 
 "But I mean to tell her." 
 
 "Please! . . .Well! . . .Well! . . Need you do 
 that immediately? Could you not let me have it for a 
 few days? I shall return it to you. You can then take 
 it to her." 
 
 "You will let no one see it?" 
 
 "Absolutely!" 
 
 "Very well. And you will return it to me?" 
 
 "I promise." 
 
 And so it was agreed that Stephen should take the 
 letter with him, which he promised to return together 
 with the earliest news of the result of his court-martial. 
 
 He stood up. 
 
 II 
 
 Stephen came out the little white gate closing it very 
 deliberately behind him and immediately set off at a 
 brisk pace down the street. Every fiber within him 
 thrilled with energy. The road was dusty and hot, 
 and his pace grew very strenuous and fervent. There
 
 n6 THE LOYALIST 
 
 was no breeze; there was no sound of wheels; all was 
 quiet as the bells tolled out the hour of six. Never- 
 theless he trudged along with great haste without once 
 stopping until he had reached the door of his lodgings. 
 He turned the key and entered, closing the door 
 behind him and taking the greatest of care to see that 
 it was properly bolted. Flinging his hat into a chair 
 as he passed, he went immediately to the table which 
 served as his desk. While he pulled himself close to 
 it, he reached into his pocket for the letter. He opened 
 it before him and read it. Then he sat back and read 
 it again; this time aloud: 
 
 Co. 13 
 
 Headquarters, New York. 
 15 July, 1778. 
 
 Madame : I am happy to ha^e this opportunity to 
 once again express my humble respects to you and to 
 assure you that yourself together with your generous 
 and hospitable friends are causing us much concern 
 separated as we are by the dia^eas of a merciless war. 
 We lead a monotonous life, for outside of the regu- 
 larities of army life, there is little to entertain us. Our 
 hearts are torn with pangs of regret as we recall the 
 golden days of the Mischlenza. 
 
 I would I could be of some se r vice to you here, that 
 you may understand that my protestations of zeal 
 made on former occasions were not without some de- 
 gree of sincerity. Let me add, too, that your many 
 friends here present unite with me in these same sen<-i- 
 ments of unaffected and genuine devotion. 
 
 I beg you to present my best respects to your sisters, 
 to the Misses Chew, and to Mrs. Shippen and Mrs. 
 Chew.
 
 THE LOYALIST 117 
 
 I have the honor to be with the greatest regard, Ma- 
 dame, your most obedient and most humble servant. 
 
 W. CATHCART. 
 Miss Peggy Shippen, 
 Philadelphia. 
 
 His face was working oddly, as if with mingled per- 
 plexity and pleasure; and he caught his lip in his teeth, 
 as his manner was. What was this innocent note? 
 Could it be so simple as it appeared? Vague possi- 
 bilities passed through his mind. 
 
 The longer he gazed as it the more simple it be- 
 came, so that he was on the point of folding it and re- 
 placing it in his pocket, sadly disconcerted at its insig- 
 nificance. He had hoped that he might have stumbled 
 across something of real value, not only some secret 
 information concerning the designs of the enemy, but 
 also some evidence of an incriminating nature against 
 his own acquaintances in the city. 
 
 Suddenly he thought he saw certain letters dotted 
 over, not entirely perceptible, yet quite discernible. He 
 turned the paper over. The reverse was perfectly 
 clear. He held it to the light but nothing appeared 
 through. 
 
 "By Jove I" he exclaimed softly. 
 
 He looked closely again. Sure enough there were 
 faint markings on several of the letters. The U H" 
 was marked. So with the "V" in "have," and the "A" 
 and the "L." Snatching a pencil and a sheet of paper 
 he made a list of the letters so marked. 
 HVANLADERIIGAERODIRCUTN 
 
 This meant nothing. That was apparent; nor could 
 he make sense out of any combination of letters. He 
 knew that there were certain codes whereby the two
 
 n8 THE LOYALIST 
 
 progressions, arithmetical and geometric were em- 
 ployed in their composition, but this seemingly an- 
 swered to none of them. He went over the list again, 
 comparing them with the marked letters as found in 
 the note. Yes, they were identical. He had copied 
 them faithfully. 
 
 He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. 
 
 "So this was sent to Peggy from New York," he 
 muttered to himself. "I strongly suspected that she 
 was in communication with her British friends, 
 although I never came in contact with the slightest 
 evidence. This certainly proves it." 
 
 He held the letter at a distance from him, atten- 
 tively surveying it. 
 
 "And General Arnold has been interested, too. Very 
 likely, Marjorie's hypothesis is the true one. They 
 had been reading the note when the newcomers ar- 
 rived on the scene and the General stuck it in his belt 
 until their greetings had been ended. Neither of them 
 now know of its whereabouts; that much is certain." 
 
 He stood up suddenly and strode about the room, 
 his hands clasped behind him. Going to the window, 
 he peered out through the small panes of glass of the 
 uncurtained upper half. There burned the light across 
 the dusk a patch of jeweled color in the far off 
 western sky. Yet it awakened no emotion at all. 
 
 His mind was engaged in the most intricate process 
 of thought. He deduced a hundred conclusions and re- 
 jected them with equal promptitude. He greatly ad- 
 mired General Arnold as the bravest leader in the line, 
 whose courage, whose heroism, whose fearlessness had 
 brought him signal successes. There was no more 
 popular soldier in the army, nor one more capable of 
 more effective service. To have his career clogged or
 
 THE LOYALIST 119 
 
 goaded by a woman, who when she either loves or 
 hates will dare anything, would be a dreadful calamity. 
 Yet it seemed as if he had surrendered his better self. 
 
 This man Anderson puzzled him. Personally he 
 was disposed to dislike him, that being the logical effect 
 of his relations with him. At the Coffee House, where 
 he had met him, and where he had suffered his better 
 judgment to become dormant, it was this man who had 
 brought him to the pitch of irritation by means of a 
 religious argument, while at the trial it was the same 
 Anderson who appeared as an excellent witness and 
 who by his clever, deliberate and self-possessed man- 
 ner, made a strong point for the Colonel in the minds 
 of the court. 
 
 What was his origin? That he might never know, 
 for of all subjects, this was the most artfully avoided. 
 In the capacity of a civilian he was engaged in no fixed 
 occupation so far as could be learned, and it was com- 
 monly known that he was a frequent visitor at the Gov- 
 ernor's mansion. That he did not belong to the serv- 
 ice, he knew very well, unless the man was affecting a 
 disguise ; this, however, he thought highly improbable. 
 The French Alliance had been further confirmed by 
 the arrival of the fleet, which brought many strangers 
 to the city. Now as he thought of it, he had a certain 
 manner about him somewhat characteristic of the 
 French people, and it was entirely possible that he 
 might have disembarked with the French visitors. He 
 was a mystery anyhow. 
 
 "Strange I should stumble across this chap," he 
 mumbled to himself.
 
 120 THE LOYALIST 
 
 in 
 
 He awoke with a start. 
 
 Just what the hour was, he could not know, for it 
 was intensely dark. He reckoned that it could not be 
 long after midnight, for it seemed as if he had scarcely 
 fallen asleep. But there was a wonderful burst of 
 light to his mind, a complete clarity of thought into 
 which often those do awake who have fallen asleep in 
 a state of great mental conflict. He opened his eyes 
 and, as it were, beheld all that he was about to do; 
 there was also a very vivid memory of his experience 
 of the evening. 
 
 He arose hurriedly and struck a light. He seized 
 the letter in search of the momentous something that 
 had dawned upon him with wonderful intensity. 
 
 "Company Thirteen," he remarked with deliberate 
 emphasis. "That must be the key." 
 
 And seizing a paper he wrote the order of letters 
 which he had copied from the note a few hours before. 
 
 HV ANLA DE R I I G 
 
 He stopped at the thirteenth, and began a second 
 line immediately under the line he had just written. 
 
 AERODIRCUTN 
 
 It inserted perfectly when read up and down begin- 
 ning with the letter "H". He completed the sentence. 
 
 HAVE ARNOLD AID RECRUITING 
 
 He could not believe his eyes. What did it all mean? 
 What regiment was this? Why should this be sent 
 from a British officer to Peggy Shippen? There were 
 mixed considerations here. 
 
 There was a satisfaction, a very great satisfaction,
 
 THE LOYALIST 121 
 
 in the knowledge that he was not entirely mistaken in 
 his suspicions concerning Peggy. She was in communi- 
 cation with the British and perhaps had been for some 
 time. This fact in itself was perfectly plain. The 
 proof of it lay in his hand. Whether or not His Ex- 
 cellency was involved in the nefarious work was an- 
 other question quite. The mere fact of the note being 
 in his possession signified nothing, or if anything, no 
 more than a coincidence. He might have read the note 
 and, at the same time, have been entirely ignorant of 
 the cipher, or he might have received this hidden in- 
 formation from the lips of Peggy herself, who un- 
 doubtedly had deciphered it at once. 
 
 Yet what was the meaning of it all? There was no 
 new call for volunteers, although, Heaven knows, there 
 was an urgent need for them, the more especially after 
 the severe winter at Valley Forge. Recruits had be- 
 come exceedingly scarce, many of whom were already 
 deserting to the British army at the rate of over a 
 hundred a month while those who remained were with- 
 out food or clothing. And when they were paid, they 
 could buy, only with the greatest difficulty, a single 
 bushel of wheat from the fruits of their four month's 
 labor. And did it prove to be true that a new armv 
 was about to be recruited, why should the enemy mani- 
 fest so much interest? The new set of difficulties into 
 which he was now involved were more intricate than 
 ever before. 
 
 He extinguished the light and went to bed. 
 
 The next day a number of copies of the New York 
 Gazette and Weekly Mercury of the issue of July 13, 
 1778, found their way into the city. They were found 
 to contain the following advertisement:
 
 122 THE LOYALIST 
 
 For the encouragement of all 
 
 Gentlemen Volunteers, 
 
 Who are willing to serve in his Majesty's Regt. of 
 Roman Catholic Volunteers, 
 
 Commanded by 
 
 Lieut. Col. Commandant, 
 
 ALFRED CLIFTON 
 
 During the present wanton and unnatural Rebellion, 
 
 AND NO LONGER, 
 
 The sum of FOUR POUNDS, 
 
 will be given above the usual Bounty, 
 
 A suit of NEW CLOTHES, 
 And every other necessary to complete a Gentleman soldier. 
 
 Those who are willing to show their attachment to their King and 
 country by engaging in the above regiment, will call at Captain 
 M'Kennon, at No. 51, in Cherry-street, near the Ship Yards, NEW 
 YORK, or at Major John Lynch, encamped at Yellow-Hook, where 
 they will receive present pay and good quarters. 
 
 N. B. Any person bringing a well-bodied loyal subject to either 
 of the above places, shall receive ONE GUINEA for his trouble. 
 
 God Save the King."
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 It was not until the following Wednesday night that 
 John Anderson was ready to pay his respects to Mis- 
 tress Marjorie. 
 
 He had worked on the miniature since Saturday, and 
 had regarded his finished product with eminent satis- 
 faction. He had drawn her as she appeared to him on 
 the night of the reception in the pose which he had best 
 remembered her during the interval when she sat out 
 the dance with him; her head turned partly towards 
 him, revealing her small oval face surmounted by a 
 wealth of brown hair, powdered to a gray; her small 
 nose with just a suggestion of a dilatation lending to 
 the face an expression of strength that the rest of the 
 countenance only gave color to; the mouth, firmly set, 
 its lines curving upward, as it should be, to harmonize 
 with her disposition; the eyes, a soft brown, full of 
 candor and sincerity, delicately shadowed by slender 
 and arched eyebrows on a smooth forehead. 
 
 Marjorie could not conceal her enthusiasm as he 
 handed it to her. Unable to restrain her curiosity, she 
 arose hurriedly and went to the window to benefit by 
 the less obscure light. 
 
 "Is am I as pretty as that?" she exclaimed from 
 her vantage point, without lifting her eyes from the 
 portrait. 
 
 123
 
 124 THE LOYALIST 
 
 "Only more so," responded Anderson. "My mem- 
 ory poorly served me." 
 
 "Lud!" she remarked, holding it at arms length 
 from her, " 'Tis vastly flattering. I scarce recognize 
 myself." 
 
 She returned to her chair. 
 
 "I swear on my honor, that it fails to do you full 
 justice." 
 
 She continued to study it, paying but little heed to 
 his remark. It was a water-colored portrait done on 
 ivory of the most delicate workmanship and design, set 
 in a fine gold case, delicately engraved, the whole pre- 
 senting an appearance of beauty, richly colored. She 
 turned it over and saw the letters J.A.M.A. interlaced 
 over the triplet: 
 
 "Hours fly; flowers die; 
 New days, new ways, 
 Pass by. Love stays." 
 
 "It is very pretty," was her only comment. 
 
 "Hast no one told thee how well thou might appear 
 in a ball gown?" 
 
 "I ne'er gave thought to such." 
 
 "Nor what an impression thou wouldst make at 
 court?" 
 
 "Hast thou seen court beauties?" 
 
 She resolved to learn more about him. 
 
 "Aye! Oft have I been in their company." 
 
 "At St. James?" 
 
 "No. Much as I would have been pleased to. I 
 know only Versailles." 
 
 So she thought he must be a French nobleman, who 
 like Lafayette had incurred the royal displeasure by 
 running away from court to fit out a vessel at his own
 
 THE LOYALIST 125 
 
 expense in the hope of furthering the cause of the 
 Colonists. The great impulse given to the hopes of 
 the disheartened population by the chivalrous exploit 
 of the latter, the sensation produced both by his de- 
 parture from Europe and by his appearance in this 
 country, might behold a glorious repetition in the 
 person of this unknown visitor. 
 
 Her interest accordingly grew apace. 
 
 "It was magnanimous of His Majesty to take our 
 cause to his heart. We can never fail in our grati- 
 tude." 
 
 "It is only natural for man to resist oppression. It 
 has been written that it is only the meek who should 
 possess the land." 
 
 "An ideal which is often badly shattered by the self- 
 ish ambitions and pe;;#rse passions of godless men." 
 
 "You are a Catholic?" he asked suddenly. 
 
 "I am proud of it." 
 
 "And your fellow patriots are of the same form of 
 worship?" 
 
 "A goodly proportion of them." 
 
 "How many might you assume?" 
 
 "I scarce know. We have no method of compiling 
 our numbers, not even our total population." 
 
 "Surely there must be a great percentage, if one 
 considers the influx from France and England, not to 
 mention Ireland, whence many fled from persecution." 
 
 "I once heard Father Farmer say that there must 
 be over seven thousand Catholics in Pennsylvania, 
 while Maryland has about fifteen thousand. What- 
 ever there remain are much scattered, except of course 
 New York with its thousand." 
 
 "I never dreamt they were so numerous I So great
 
 126 THE LOYALIST 
 
 is the spirit of intolerance, that the wonder is that 
 a single Catholic would remain in the Colonies." 
 
 "I know it. Formerly Maryland and Pennsylvania 
 were the two only colonies where Catholics were 
 allowed to reside, and even there were excluded from 
 any civil or military office. And the time has not yet 
 arrived for complete religious freedom, though the 
 arrival of the French fleet with its Catholic army and 
 Catholic chaplains will make a favorable impression 
 upon our less enlightened oppressors." 
 
 "It seems strange that you should throw in your 
 lot with a people who prove so intolerant." 
 
 "Father Farmer, our pastor, says that no influence 
 must ever be used except for the national cause, for we 
 must be quickened by the hope of better days. He 
 pleads with his people to remain faithful and promises 
 the undivided sympathy of his fellow priests with their 
 kinsmen in the struggle. For these reasons I hardly 
 think that many Catholics will desert our cause." 
 
 "Yet you must know that it was England that be- 
 stowed the most liberal grants to the inhabitants of the 
 Northwest territory." 
 
 "You mean the Quebec Act?" she asked. 
 
 "Yes. And you know that Canada would be allied 
 with you, heart and soul, were it not for the intoler- 
 ant spirit of your fellow colonists." 
 
 "Perhaps it would." 
 
 "Now, would it not be better " 
 
 "Do you mean to suggest to me that we turn 
 traitor?" she interrupted, turning full upon him, her 
 eyes flashing with intense feeling. 
 
 "No. . . . pardon. ... I meant no offense. . . . 
 The fact is I was only remarking on the sad plight of 
 our co-religionists."
 
 THE LOYALIST 127 
 
 "I fail to perceive how ill we fare. Our compatriots 
 render us honor, and as Father Farmer says, 'we may 
 cherish the hope of better days, which are inevitable.' 
 You must know that one of the signers of the Declara- 
 tion of Independence is a Catholic; and that the army 
 and navy boast of a considerable quota." 
 
 "We are not ungenerous of our service, it seems." 
 
 "Rather are we proud of our efforts. We are proud 
 of the fact that there has been found among us not one 
 false to his country. We point with pride to him who 
 was privileged to first read the Declaration of Inde- 
 pendence to the public. We are proud of the composi- 
 tion of Washington's 'Life Guard' ; and we are proud 
 of our mutual friend, whom, perhaps, you know," and 
 she glanced at him with a merry twinkle, "Captain 
 Meagher, Washington's aide-de-camp." 
 
 And so they talked. Marjorie became completely 
 absorbed in her subject, once her religion became the 
 topic, and she almost forgot her game in regard to 
 her visitor. She desired to appear to the best advan- 
 tage, however, for which purpose she talked freely, in 
 the hope of extracting from him some information con- 
 cerning himself and his intents. Still, however, there 
 was another extreme which, though apparently less 
 dangerous, she must be careful to avoid. The imag- 
 inations of men are in a great measure under the con- 
 trol of their feelings and it was absolutely necessary 
 for her to refrain from imparting too much informa- 
 tion lest it might deflect from its purpose the very 
 object she was seeking to obtain. 
 
 There was a subtle influence about him, an adroit- 
 ness of speech, a precision of movement which, unless 
 sufficiently safeguarded against, was insi/Sious. He had 
 the most wonderful way of getting one's confidence, not
 
 128 THE LOYALIST 
 
 only by reason of his genial and affable disposition, 
 but also by his apparent and deliberate sincerity. And 
 while it was true that she had determined upon a 
 method which was originally intended to redound to 
 her own advantage, she soon learned that she was play- 
 ing with a boomerang which soon put her upon the de- 
 fensive against the very strategy which she had herself 
 directly planned. 
 
 He was not sincere in his protestations of admira- 
 tion; that she perceived immediately. But she was 
 resolved to let him think that she believed him in order 
 that she might discover his true intents and purposes. 
 Her knowledge of human nature was sufficient to en- 
 able her to conclude that one cannot unite the incom- 
 patible elements of truth and deception, the discern- 
 ment of reality and the enjoyment of fiction for any 
 great length of time. The reality is bound to appear. 
 
 For this reason she was not disposed to dismiss him 
 at once but rather to allow him to call and see her 
 frequently, if need be, until she had been thoroughly 
 satisfied as to his true character. Nevertheless she 
 sensed, at this very moment, that she was playing with 
 a skillful adversary, one thoroughly versed in the game 
 of diplomacy, against whom she would be called upon 
 to employ every manner of weapon at her command. 
 She realized the weight of the foe, and thought she 
 understood his tactics. So she accepted the challenge. 
 
 "You are interested in Captain Meagher?" he asked 
 serenely. 
 
 There was a pause. Marjorie looked slightly per- 
 turbed. 
 
 "Well," she confessed, "there is this much about 
 him. I chanced to know the details of the offense with
 
 THE LOYALIST 129 
 
 which he has been charged and I am naturally inter- 
 ested to learn the result of his trial." 
 
 "He may be found guilty," he quietly announced. 
 
 "Why do you say that?" 
 
 "The evidence was wholly against him." 
 
 "And there was no testimony to the effect that Colo- 
 nel Forrest was somewhat intoxicated, or that he spoke 
 disparaging words against the Captain's co-religion- 
 ists, or that he attacked the character of the Com- 
 mander-in-chief?" 
 
 "There was to some extent, but it did not seem to 
 make any impression." 
 
 "I presume that you know the reason." 
 
 Her eyes gleamed a little. 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 There was a pause. 
 
 "The verdict has not been given. I shall be pleased 
 to inform you of it at the earliest opportunity." 
 
 "Thank you. I shall be delighted. But let's not 
 talk about it any more," she added. "Let's leave it." 
 
 Mr. Anderson smiled. 
 
 II 
 
 It was perhaps an hour after dawn that Stephen 
 awoke for about the third or fourth time that night; 
 for the conflict still surged within him and would give 
 him no peace. And, as he lay there, awake in an in- 
 stant, staring into the brightness of the morn, once 
 more weighing the mysterious disclosures of the eve- 
 ning, swayed by the desire for action at one moment, 
 overcome with sadness at the next, the thought of the 
 impending verdict of his trial occurred at him and 
 made him rise very hurriedly.
 
 130 THE LOYALIST 
 
 He was an early arrival at Headquarters. There 
 had been several matters disposed of during the pre- 
 ceding day and the verdicts would be announced to- 
 gether. The room where the court was being held 
 was already stirring with commotion; his judge-advo- 
 cate was there, as was Colonel Forrest, Mr. Anderson, 
 several members of the General's staff, and Mr. Alli- 
 son, who had sought entry to learn the decision. Sud- 
 denly a dull solemn silence settled over all as the 
 members of the court filed slowly into the room. 
 
 They took their places with their usual dignity, and 
 began to dispose of the several cases in their turn. 4 
 When that of Captain Meagher was reached Stephen 
 was ordered to appear before the court to hear his 
 sentence. 
 
 He took his place before them with perfect calm- 
 ness. He observed that not one of them ventured to 
 meet his eye as he awaited their utterance. 
 
 They found that he was not justified in making the 
 attack upon a superior officer, notwithstanding the 
 alleged cause for provocation, and that he was im- 
 prudent in his action, yet because of his good char- 
 acter, as testified to by his superior officers, because of 
 the mitigating circumstances which had been brought 
 to light by the testimony of the witnesses during the 
 course of the trial and because the act had been com- 
 mitted without malice or criminal intent, he was found 
 not guilty of any violation of the Articles of War, but 
 imprudent in his action, for which cause he had been 
 sentenced to receive a reprimand from the Military 
 Governor. 
 
 Stephen spoke not a word to any one as he made his 
 way back to his seat. Why could they not have given 
 him a clear verdict? Either he was guilty or he was
 
 THE LOYALIST 131 
 
 not guilty. He could not be misled by the sugary 
 phrases in which the vote of censure had been couched. 
 The court had been against him from the start. 
 
 At any rate, he thought, the reprimand would be 
 only a matter of form. Its execution lay wholly with 
 him who was to administer it. The court could not, by 
 law, indicate its severity, nor its lenity, nor indeed add 
 anything in regard to its execution, save to direct that 
 it should be administered by the commander who con- 
 vened the court. And while it was undoubtedly the 
 general intention of the court-martial to impose a mild 
 punishment, yet the quality of the reprimand was left 
 entirely to the discretion of the authority commissioned 
 to utter it. 
 
 When Stephen appeared before the Military Gov- 
 ernor at the termination of the business of the day, he 
 was seized with a great fury, one of those angers 
 which, for a while, poison the air without obscuring 
 the mind. There was an unkind look on the face of the 
 Governor, which he did not like and which indicated 
 to him that all would not be pleasant. He bowed his 
 head in answer to his name. 
 
 "Captain Meagher," the Governor began. "You 
 have been found guilty by the Regimental Court-Mar- 
 tial of an action which was highly imprudent. You 
 have been led perhaps by an infatuate zeal in behalf 
 of those, whom you term your co-religionists, to the 
 committal of an offense upon the person of your supe- 
 rior officer. It is because of this fact that I find it my 
 sad duty to reprimand you severely for your misguided 
 ardor and to admonish you, together with the other 
 members of your sect, of whom an unfair representa- 
 tion is already found in the halls of our Congress and 
 in the ranks of our forces, lest similar outbreaks occur
 
 132 THE LOYALIST 
 
 again. Did you but know that this eye only lately 
 saw the members of that same Congress at Mass for 
 the soul of a Roman Catholic in purgatory, and par- 
 ticipating in the rites of a Church against whose anti- 
 Christian corruptions your pious ancestors would have 
 witnessed with their blood? The army must not 
 witness similar outbreaks of religious zeal in the 
 future." 
 
 He finished. Stephen left the room without a word, 
 turned on his heel and made his way down the street. 
 
 Ill 
 
 Nature is a great restorer when she pours into the 
 gaping wounds of the jaded system the oil and wine 
 of repose. Divine grace administers the same nar- 
 cotic to the soul crushed by torture and anguish. It is 
 then that tears are dried, and that afflictions and 
 crosses become sweet. 
 
 Desolation, a very lonely desolation, and a deep sense 
 of helplessness filled the soul of Stephen as he retraced 
 his steps from the court room. His life seemed a great 
 burden to him, his hopes swallowed up in his bereave- 
 ment. If he could but remove his mind from his tra- 
 vail of disappointments and bitterness, if his soul could 
 only soar aloft in prayer to the realms of bliss and 
 repose, he might endure this bitter humiliation. He 
 felt the great need of prayer, humble, submissive 
 prayer. Oh! If he could only pray! 
 
 He was invisibly directed into the little doorway of 
 St. Joseph's. His feeling was like that of the storm 
 tossed mariner as he securely steers for the beacon 
 light. The church was nearly empty, save for a bare 
 half-dozen people who occupied seats at various inter-
 
 THE LOYALIST 133 
 
 vals. They were alone in their contemplation, as 
 Catholics are wont to be, before their God, without 
 beads or prayer-book, intent only upon the Divine 
 Person concealed within the tabernacle walls, and an- 
 nounced by the flickering red flame in the little lamp 
 before the altar. Here he felt himself removed from 
 the world and its affairs, as if enclosed in a strange 
 parenthesis, set off from all other considerations. And 
 straightway, his soul was carried off into a calm, pure, 
 lofty region of consolation and repose. 
 
 To the human soul, prayer is like the beams of light 
 which seem to connect sun and earth. It raises the 
 soul aloft and transports it to another and a better 
 world. There basking in the light of the divine pres- 
 ence it is strengthened to meet the impending conflict. 
 Nothing escapes the all-seeing eye of God. He only 
 waits for the prayer of his children eager to grant 
 their requests. Nothing is denied to faith and love. 
 Neither can measure be set to the divine bounty. 
 
 "Miserere mei, Deus; secundum magnam misericor- 
 diam tuam." Have mercy on me, O God, accord- 
 ing to Thy great mercy." 
 
 Stephen buried his face in his hands, in an agony 
 of conflict. 
 
 The tone of the Military Governor's reprimand had 
 left no room for speculation as to his true intents and 
 purposes. Whatever rebuke had been administered 
 to him was intended for the Catholic population, other- 
 wise there was no earthly reason for holding up to 
 reprobation the conduct of the body governing the 
 republic. The mere fact that the Governor despised 
 the Congress was an unworthy as well as an insufficient 
 motive for the base attack. 
 
 The humiliated soldier felt incapable of bearing the
 
 i 3 4 THE LOYALIST 
 
 insult without murmuring, yet he chose to accept it 
 with perfect resignation and submission. For a time 
 he had fought against it. But in the church he felt 
 seized by an invisible force. On a sudden this invis< 
 ible tension seemed to dissolve like a gray mist, hover- 
 ing over a lake, and began to give place to a solemn 
 and tender sweetness. 
 
 "Miserere mei Deus." 
 
 He sought refuge in the arms of God, crying aloud 
 to Him for His mercy. He would give his soul up to 
 prayer and commit his troubled spirit into the hands 
 of his intercessors before the throne of Heaven. 
 
 "Accept my punishments for the soul who is about 
 to be released." 
 
 To the souls in Purgatory, then, he poured forth 
 the bitterness of his heart, offering in their behalf 
 through the intercession of the Virgin Mary, the cross 
 which had been imposed upon him. The injustice of 
 his trial which he knew, or thought he knew, had been 
 tempered by the spirit of intolerance, was brought 
 home to him now in full vigor by the severity of his 
 reprimand. He did not deserve it, no he could not 
 force himself to believe that he did. Still he accepted 
 it generously though painfully, in behalf of the suffer- 
 ings of his friends. 
 
 He besought them to pray for him, that he might the 
 more worthily endure his cross. He prayed for his 
 tormentors that they might be not held culpable for 
 their error. He entrusted himself entirely into the 
 hands of his departed ones and renewed with a greater 
 fervor his act of consecration. 
 
 "I beseech Thee, O my God, to accept and confirm 
 this offering for Thy honor and the salvation of my 
 soul. Amen."
 
 THE LOYALIST 135 
 
 He arose from his pew, made a genuflection before 
 the Blessed Sacrament, pronouncing as he did, "My 
 Lord and My God," crossed himself with the holy 
 water, and left the church. 
 
 IV 
 
 * 
 
 In the meantime an event of rare importance had 
 occurred in the garden of the Shippen home. There, 
 in the recesses of the tulips sheltered behind the clus- 
 tering hydrangeas, Peggy accepted the fervent suit of 
 the Military Governor and gave him her promise to 
 become his bride. A few days later the world was 
 informed of the betrothal and nodded its head in as- 
 tonishment, and opening its lips, sought relief in many 
 words. 
 
 The wheels of destiny began to turn.
 
 PART TWO
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 It was a hot October day. 
 
 A torrid wave generated somewhere in the far west, 
 and aided by the prevailing trade winds had swept re- 
 lentlessly across the country, reaching the city at a 
 most unusual time. It had not come unheralded, how- 
 ever, for the sun of yesterday had gone down a blaz- 
 ing red, illuminating the sky like rays from a mighty 
 furnace, and tinging the evening landscape with the 
 reddish and purplish hues of an Indian summer. And 
 what a blanket of humidity accompanied it! Like a 
 cloak it settled down upon the land, making breathing 
 laborious and driving every living creature out of 
 doors. 
 
 Jim Cadwalader and his wife sat on the lawn, if 
 the patch of brown grass to the side of their little 
 house could be termed a lawn, and awaited the close 
 of the day. Three huge elms, motionless in the still 
 sunshine and, like all motionless things, adding to the 
 stillness, afforded a canopy against the burning rays 
 of the sun. What mattered it that the cool shaded 
 air was infested with mosquitoes and house-flies or that 
 the coarse grass was uneven and unkempt, from the 
 low mounds which ran all over it or, from the profu- 
 sion of leaves which had here and there fluttered down 
 from the great trees. For it must be confessed that 
 neither Jim nor his wife had found the time for the 
 
 139
 
 140 THE LOYALIST 
 
 proper care of the premises, or if perchance, they had 
 found the time the inclination itself had been wanting. 
 
 "Sumthins got t' turn up in sum way 'r other b'fore 
 long. I ain't seen the sight o' work here in nigh two 
 year." 
 
 "Guess you won't see it fur a while," responded the 
 wife, from her straight-backed chair, her arms folded, 
 her body erect. 
 
 "Like as not a man 'd starve t' death in these here 
 times, with nuthin' t' do." 
 
 Jim sat with his elbows resting upon his yellow 
 buckskin breeches, his rough stubby fingers interlocked, 
 his small fiery eyes piercing the distance beyond the 
 fields. 
 
 "If this business o' war was through with, things 
 'd git right agin." 
 
 "But it ain't goin' t' be over, let me tell you that." 
 
 They became silent. 
 
 Sad as was their plight, it was no sadder than the 
 plight of many of their class. The horrors of a pro- 
 tracted war had visited with equal severity the dwelling 
 places of the rich and the poor. It was not a question 
 of the provision of the sinews of war; tax had been 
 enacted of all classes alike. But it did seem as if the 
 angel of poverty had tarried the longer at the door- 
 posts of the less opulent and had, in proportion to their 
 indigence, inflicted the greater suffering and privation. 
 Figiiratively speaking, this was the state of affairs with 
 Jim's house. 
 
 Everything that could stimulate, and everything that 
 could gratify the propensities of a middle-aged couple, 
 the blessings of health, the daily round of occupation, 
 the joys of life and the hopes of at length obtaining 
 possession of a little home, all these and the content-
 
 THE LOYALIST 141 
 
 ment of living, had at once been swept away from Jim 
 Cadwalader and his wife by the Calamities of war. 
 They had lived as many had lived who have no differ- 
 ent excuse to plead for their pe&ury. The wages of 
 their day's labor had been their sole means of support, 
 and when this source of income had vanished, nothing 
 was left. In the low and dingy rooms which they 
 called their home there were no articles of adornment 
 and many necessary for use were wanting. Sand 
 sprinkled on the floor did duty as a carpet. There 
 was no glass upon their table; no china on the cup- 
 board; no prints on the wall. Matches were a treas- 
 ure and coal was never seen. Over a fire of broken 
 boxes and barrels, lighted with sparks from the flint, 
 was cooked a rude meal to be served in pewter dishes. 
 Fresh meat was rarely tasted at most but once a 
 week, and then paid for at a higher price than their 
 scanty means could justly allow. 
 
 "The way things 're goin' a pair o' boots '11 soon 
 cost a man 'most six hundr' dollars. I heard a man 
 say who 's good at figurin' out these things, that it 
 now takes forty dollar bills t' make a dollar o' coin. 
 We can't stand that much longer." 
 
 "Unless a great blow is struck soon," observed 
 Nancy. 
 
 "But it won't be struck. Washington's watchin' 
 Clinton from Morristown. The Americans are now 
 on the offensive an' Clinton 's busy holdin' New York. 
 The French 're here an' who knows but they may 
 do somethin'. 'Twas too bad they missed Howe's army 
 when it left here." 
 
 "Were they here?" 
 
 "They were at the capes when the chase was over. 
 Lord Howe's ships had gone."
 
 142 THE LOYALIST 
 
 Again there was silence. 
 
 "I guess Washington can't do much without an 
 army. He has only a handful an' I heard that the 
 volunteers won't stay. Three thousan' o' them left 
 t' other day. Can't win a war that way. If they'd 
 only listen to Barry they'd have a navy now, an' if they 
 want to catch Clinton in New York they'll need a 
 navy." 
 
 "Is the Captain home?" 
 
 "I saw him t' other day. He is goin' t' Boston t' 
 command the Raleigh, a thirty-two gunner. But one's 
 no good. He needs a fleet." 
 
 "Thank God! The French have come. Peace is 
 here now." 
 
 "It's money we need more'n soldiers. We can git 
 an army right here if we could only pay 'em. No one 
 '11 fight fur nuthin'. They're starvin' as much as us." 
 
 The fact that the hopes of this American couple had 
 suffered a partial collapse, must be attributed rather to 
 the internal state of affairs than to the military situ- 
 ation. While it is true that no great military objective 
 had been gained as a result of the three years of fight- 
 ing, yet the odds at the present moment were decidedly 
 on the American side. Still the country was without 
 anything fit to be called a general government. The 
 Articles of Confederation, which were intended to 
 establish a league of friendship between the thirteen 
 states, had not yet been adopted. The Continental 
 Congress, continuing to decline in reputation and capac- 
 ity, provoked a feeling of utter weariness and intense 
 depression. The energies and resources of the people 
 were without organization. 
 
 Resources they had. There was also a vigorous 
 and an animated spirit of patriotism, but there were
 
 THE LOYALIST 143 
 
 no means of concentrating and utilizing these assets. 
 It was the general administrative paralysis rather than 
 any real poverty that tried the souls of the colonists. 
 They heartily approved of the war; Washington now 
 held a higher place in their hearts than he had ever 
 held before; peace seemed a certainty the longer the 
 war endured. But they were weary of the struggle 
 and handicapped by the internal condition of affairs. 
 
 Jim and his wife typified the members of the poorer 
 class, the class upon whom the war had descended with 
 all its horror and cruelty and desolation. Whatever 
 scanty possessions they had, cows, corn, wheat or flour, 
 had been seized by the foraging parties of the oppos- 
 ing forces, while their horse and wagon had been im- 
 pressed into the service of the British, at the time of 
 the evacuation of the city, to cart away the stores and 
 provisions. A means of occupation had been denied 
 Jim during the period of stagnation and what mere 
 existence could now be eked out depended solely in 
 the tillage of the land upon which he dwelled. Never- 
 theless the Cadwaladers maintained their outward 
 cheer and apparent optimism throughout it all but still 
 they yearned inwardly for the day when strife would 
 be no more. 
 
 "I can't see as t' how we're goin' to git off eny better 
 when this here whole thin's over. We're fightin' fur 
 independence, but the peopul don't want to change 
 their guver'ment; Washington '11 be king when this is 
 over." 
 
 Jim was ruminating aloud, stripping with his thumb 
 nail the bark from a small branch which he had picked 
 from the ground. 
 
 " 'Twas the Quebec Act th' done it. It was sup- 
 posed to reestablish Popery in Canada, and did by
 
 144 THE LOYALIST 
 
 right. But th' Americans, and mostly those in New 
 England who are the worst kind of Dissenters and 
 Whigs got skeered because they thought the Church o' 
 England or the Church o' Rome 'd be the next thing 
 established in the Colonies. That's what brought on 
 the war." 
 
 "We all don't believe that. Some do ; but I don't." 
 
 "You don't?" he asked, without lifting his eyes to 
 look at her. "Well you kin. Wasn't the first thing 
 they did up in New England to rush t' Canada t' cap- 
 ture the country or else t' form an alliance with it? 
 And didn't our own Arnold try t' git revenge on it fur 
 not sidin' in with him by plunderin' th' homes of th' 
 peopul up there and sendin' the goods back to Ticon- 
 deroga?" 
 
 She made no reply, but continued to peer into the 
 distance. 
 
 "And didn't our Congress send a petition to King 
 George t' have 'm repeal the limits o' Quebec and to 
 the peopul t' tell 'm the English Guver'ment 'is not 
 authorized to establish a religion fraught with sang- 
 uary 'r impius tenets'? I know 'cause I read it." 
 
 "It makes no diff'rence now. It's over." 
 
 "Well it shows the kind o' peopul here. They're so 
 afreed o' the Pope." 
 
 She waved her hand in a manner of greeting. 
 
 "Who's that?" asked Jim. 
 
 "Marjorie." 
 
 He turned sideways looking over his shoulder. 
 
 Then he stood up. 
 
 II 
 That there was more than a grain of truth in the
 
 THE LOYALIST 145 
 
 assertion of Jim Cadwalader that the war for Inde- 
 pendence had, like the great rivers of the country, 
 many sources, cannot be gainsaid. There were op- 
 pressive tax laws as well as restrictions on popular 
 rights. There were odious navigation acts together 
 with a host of iniquitous, tyrannical measures which 
 were destined to arouse the ire of any people however 
 loyal. But there were religious prejudices which were 
 likewise a moving cause of the revolt, a moving force 
 upon the minds of the people at large. And these were 
 utilized and systematized most effectively by the active 
 malcontents and leaders of the strife. 
 
 The vast majority of the population of the Colonies 
 were Dissenters, subjects of the crown who disagreed 
 with it in matters of religious belief and who had emi- 
 grated thither to secure a haven where they might 
 worship their God according to the dictates of their 
 own conscience rather than at the dictates of a body 
 politic. The Puritans had sought refuge in Massa- 
 chusetts and Connecticut where the white spires of their 
 meeting houses, projecting above the angles of the 
 New England hills, became indicative of Congrega- 
 tionalism. Roger Williams and the Baptists found a 
 harbor in Rhode Island. William Penn brought the 
 Quaker colony to Pennsylvania. Captain Thomas 
 Webb lent active measures to the establishment of 
 Methodism in New York and in Maryland, while the 
 colony of Virginia afforded protection to the adher- 
 ents of the Established Church. The country was in 
 the main Protestant, save for the vestiges of Cath- 
 olicity left by the Franciscan and Jesuit Missionary 
 Fathers, who penetrated the boundless wastes in an 
 heroic endeavor to plant the seeds of their faith in the
 
 i 4 6 THE LOYALIST 
 
 rich and fertile soil of the new and unexplored con- 
 tinent. 
 
 Consequently with the passage of the Quebec Act 
 in 1774 a wave of indignation and passionate appre- 
 hension swept the country from the American Patriots 
 of Boston to the English settlements on the west. 
 That large and influential members of the Protestant 
 religion were being assailed and threatened with op- 
 pression and that the fear of Popery, recently re- 
 established in Canada, became an incentive for armed 
 resistance, proved to be motives of great concern. 
 They even reminded King George of these calamities 
 and emphatically declared themselves Protestants, 
 faithful to the principles of 1688, faithful to the ideals 
 of the "Glorious Revolution" against James II, faith- 
 ful to the House of Hanover, then seated on the 
 throne. 
 
 "Can a free government possibly exist with the 
 Roman Catholic Church?" asked John Adams of 
 Thomas Jefferson. This simple question embodied in 
 concrete form the apprehensions of the country at 
 large, whose inhabitants had now become firmly con- 
 vinced that King George, in granting the Quebec Bill, 
 had become a traitor, had broken his coronation oath, 
 was a Papist at heart, and was scheming to submit this 
 country to the unconstitutional power of the English 
 monarch. It was not so much a contest between peoples 
 as a conflict of principles, political and religious, the 
 latter of which contributed the active force that 
 brought on the revolt and gave it power.
 
 THE LOYALIST 147 
 
 in 
 
 Strange to relate, there came a decided reversal of 
 position after the formation of the French Alliance. 
 No longer was the Catholic religion simply tolerated; 
 it was openly professed, and, owing in a great measure 
 to the unwearied labors of the Dominican and Francis- 
 can friars, made the utmost progress among all ranks 
 of people. The fault of the Catholic population was 
 anything but disloyalty, it was found, and their manner 
 of life, their absolute sincerity in their religious con- 
 victions, their generous and altruistic interest in mat- 
 ters of concern to the public good, proved irrefutable 
 arguments against the calumnies and vilifications of 
 earlier days. The Constitutions adopted by the several 
 states and the laws passed to regulate the new gov- 
 ernments show that the principles of religious freedom 
 and equality had made progress during the war and 
 were to be incorporated as vital factors in the shaping 
 of the destinies of the new nation. 
 
 The supreme importance of the French Alliance at 
 this juncture cannot be overestimated. Coming, as it 
 did, at a time when the depression of the people had 
 reached the lowest ebb, when the remnant of the army 
 of the Americans was enduring the severities of the 
 winter season at Valley Forge, when the enemy was in 
 possession of the fairest part of the country together 
 with the two most important cities, when Congress 
 could not pay its bills, nor meet the national debt 
 which alone exceeded forty million dollars, when the 
 medium of exchange would not circulate because of its 
 worthlessness, when private debts could not be col- 
 lected and when credit was generally prostrated, the 
 Alliance proved a benefit of incalculable value to the
 
 1 48 THE LOYALIST 
 
 struggling nation, not only in the enormous resources 
 which it supplied to the army but in the general morale 
 of the people which it made buoyant. 
 
 The capture of Burgoyne and the announcement that 
 Lord North was about to bring in conciliatory meas- 
 ures furnished convincing proof to France that the 
 American Alliance was worth having. A treaty was 
 drawn up by virtue of which the Americans solemnly 
 agreed, in consideration of armed support to be fur- 
 nished by France, never to entertain proposals of peace 
 with Great Britain until their independence should be 
 acknowledged, anc^never to conclude a treaty of peace 
 except with the concurrence of their new ally. 
 
 Large sums of mdney were at once furnished the 
 American Congress. A strong force of trained sol- 
 diers was sent to act under Washington's command. 
 A powerful fleet was soon to set sail for American 
 w r aters and the French forces at home were directed to 
 cripple the military power of England and to lock up 
 and neutralize much British energy which would other- 
 wise be directed against the Americans. Small wonder 
 that a new era began to dawn for the Colonists ! 
 
 When we remember the anti-Catholic spirit of the 
 first years of the Revolution and consider the freedom 
 of action which came to the Catholics as a consequence 
 of the French Alliance, another and a striking phase 
 of its influence is revealed. The Catholic priests hith- 
 erto seen in the colonies had been barely tolerated 
 in the limited districts where they labored. Now came 
 Catholic chaplains of foreign embassies; army and 
 navy chaplains celebrating mass with pomp on the men- 
 of-war and in the camps and cities. The French chap- 
 lains were brought in contact with all classes of the 
 people in all parts of the country and the masses said
 
 THE LOYALIST 149 
 
 in the French lines were attended by many who had 
 never before witnessed a Catholic ceremony. Even 
 Rhode Island, with a French fleet in her waters, blotted 
 from her statute-book a law against Catholics. 
 
 IV 
 
 "What have we here, Marjorie?" asked Jim as he 
 walked part of the way to meet her. 
 
 "Just a few ribs of pork. I thought that you might 
 like them." 
 
 She gave Jim the basket and walked over to Mrs. 
 Cadwalader and kissed her. 
 
 "Heaven bless you, Marjorie," exclaimed Nancy as 
 she took hold of the girl's hands and held them. 
 
 "Oh, thank you ! But it is nothing, I assure you." 
 
 "You kin bet it is," announced Jim as he removed 
 from the basket a long side of pork. "Look 't that, 
 Nancy." And he held it up for her observation. 
 
 Marjorie had been accustomed to render some relief 
 to Jim and his wife since the time when reverses had 
 first visited them. Her good nature, as well as her 
 consideration of the long friendship which had existed 
 between the two families, had prompted her to this 
 service. Jim would never be in want through any fault 
 of hers, yet she was discreet enough never to proffer 
 any avowed financial assistance. The mode she em- 
 ployed was that of an occasional visit in which she 
 never failed to bring some choice morsel for the table. 
 
 "How's the dad?" asked Jim. 
 
 "Extremely well, thank you. He has been talking 
 all day on the failure of the French to take Newport." 
 
 "What's that?" asked Jim, thoroughly excited. "Has 
 there been news in town?"
 
 150 THE LOYALIST 
 
 "Haven't you heard? The fleet made an attack." 
 
 "Where? What about it?" 
 
 "They tried to enter New York to destroy the Brit- 
 ish, but it was found, I think, that they were too large 
 for the harbor. So they sailed to Newport to attack 
 the garrison there." 
 
 "Yeh?" 
 
 "General Sullivan operated on the land, and the 
 French troops were about to disembark to assist him. 
 But then Lord Howe arrived with his fleet and Count 
 d'Estaing straightway put out to sea to engage him." 
 
 "And thrashed 'm " 
 
 "No," replied Marjorie. "A great storm came up 
 and each had to save himself. From the reports Father 
 gave, General Sullivan has been left alone on the island 
 and may be fortunate if he is enabled to withdraw in 
 safety." 
 
 "What ails that Count!" exclaimed Jim thoroughly 
 aroused. "I don't think he's much good." 
 
 "Now don't git excited," interrupted Nancy. 
 "That's you all th' time. Just wait a bit." 
 
 "Just when we want 'im he leaves us. That's no 
 good." 
 
 "Any more news, girl?" 
 
 "No. Everything is quiet except for the news we 
 received about the regiment of Catholic volunteers that 
 is being recruited in New York." 
 
 "In New York? Clinton is there." 
 
 "I know it. This is a British regiment" 
 
 "I see. Tryin' t' imitate 'The Congress' Own?" 
 
 "So it seems." 
 
 "And do they think they will git many Cath'lics, or 
 that there 're enough o' them here?" 
 
 "I do not know," answered Marjorie. "But some
 
 THE LOYALIST 151 
 
 handbills have appeared in the city which came from 
 New York." 
 
 "And they want the Cath'lics? What pay are they 
 goin' t' give?" 
 
 "Four pounds." 
 
 "That's a lot o' money nowadays." 
 
 "That is all I know about it. I can't think what 
 success they will have. We are sure of some loyalists, 
 however." 
 
 "I guess I'll hev to git down town t' see what's goin' 
 on. Things were quiet fur so long that I stayed pretty 
 well t' home here. What does yur father think?" 
 
 "He is angry, of course. But he has said little." 
 
 "I never saw anything like it. What'll come next?" 
 
 He folded his arms and crossed his knee. 
 
 An hour later she stood at the gate taking her leave 
 of Jim and Nancy at the termination of a short but 
 pleasant visit. 
 
 "Keep a stout heart," she was saying to Jim, "for 
 better days are coming." 
 
 "I know 't, girl. Washington won't fail." 
 
 "He is coming here shortly." 
 
 "To Philadelphia?" asked Nancy. 
 
 "Yes. So he instructed Captain Meagher." 
 
 "I hope he removes Arnold." 
 
 "Hardly. He is a sincere friend to him. He wishes 
 to see Congress." 
 
 "Has he been summon'd?" 
 
 "No I Captain Meagher intimated to me that a 
 letter had been sent to His Excellency from the former 
 chaplain of Congress, the Rev. Mr. Duche, complain- 
 ing that the most respectable characters had withdrawn 
 and were being succeeded by a great majority of illib- 
 eral and violent men. He cited the fact that Maryland
 
 152 THE LOYALIST 
 
 had sent the Catholic Charles Carroll of Carrollton 
 instead of the Protestant Tilghman." 
 
 "Who is this Duche?" 
 
 "I do not know. But he has since fled to the Brit- 
 ish. He warmly counseled the abandonment of Inde- 
 pendence." 
 
 "If that's his style, he's no good. Will we see the 
 Gin'ral?" 
 
 "Perhaps. Then again he may come and go 
 secretly." 
 
 "God help the man," breathed Nancy.
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 "Simply a written statement. A public utterance 
 from you denouncing the Catholics would prove of in- 
 calculable value to us." 
 
 John Anderson had been for an hour or more in the 
 company of the Military Governor. Seemingly great 
 progress had been made in the recruiting of the regi- 
 ment, much of which had, of necessity, been effected in 
 a secret manner, for now the city was under the domi- 
 nation of the Continental forces. Anderson had made 
 the most of his time and was in a fair way to report 
 progress for the past month. 
 
 "Don't be a fool, Anderson. You know that it would 
 be the height of folly for me to make any such state- 
 ment. I can do no more than I am doing. How many 
 have you?" 
 
 "Nearly an hundred." 
 
 "There are several miserable Papists in Congress. 
 If they could be prevailed upon to resign, it would cre- 
 ate a considerable impression upon the minds of the 
 people." 
 
 "I did see Carroll." 
 
 "How did he receive you?" 
 
 "He replied to me that he had entered zealously 
 into the Revolution to obtain religious as well as civil 
 liberty, and he hoped that God would grant that this 
 religious liberty would be preserved in these states to 
 the end of time." 
 
 153
 
 i 5 4 THE LOYALIST 
 
 "Confound him! We cannot reach him, I suppose." 
 
 "So it appears. He is intensely patriotic." 
 
 "You have an hundred, you say? All common folk, 
 I venture. We should have several influential men." 
 
 "But they cannot be reached. I know well the need 
 of a person of influence, which thought urged me to 
 ask such a statement from you." 
 
 He looked at him savagely. 
 
 "Do you think I'm a fool?" 
 
 " 'The fool knows more in his own house than a 
 wise man does in another's.' I merely suggest, that is 
 all." 
 
 "My answer is, absolutely, No I" 
 
 There was silence. 
 
 "I know that Roman Catholic influence is beginning 
 to reveal itself in the army. Washington is well dis- 
 posed toward them and they are good soldiers. Time 
 was when they were less conspicuous; but nowadays 
 every fool legislature is throwing public offices open to 
 them and soon France will exercise the same control 
 over these states as she now wields across the seas." 
 
 "Would you be in league with France?" asked An- 
 derson with a wavering tremor in his voice. 
 
 "God knows how I detest it! But I have sworn to 
 defend the cause of my country and I call this shattered 
 limb to witness how well I have spent myself in her 
 behalf. I once entertained the hope that our efforts 
 would be crowned with success, nevertheless I must 
 confess that the more protracted grows the struggle, 
 the more the conviction is forced upon me that our 
 cause is mistaken, if not entirely wrong, and destined 
 to perish miserably. Still, I shall not countenance open 
 rebellion. I could not." 
 
 "You will continue to advise me. I am little ac-
 
 THE LOYALIST 155 
 
 quainted with the city, you know, and it would be diffi- 
 cult for me to avoid dangerous risks." 
 
 Arnold thought for a minute, his features overcast 
 by a scowl which closed his eyes to the merest chinks. 
 
 "I shall do no more than I have already done. I 
 cannot permit myself to be entangled. There is too 
 much at stake." 
 
 He was playing a dangerous game, inspirited by no 
 genuine love for country but by feelings of wounded 
 pride. He was urged on, not through any fears of 
 personal safety but through misguided intimidations 
 of a foreign alliance; not because of any genuine desire 
 to aid or abet the cause of the enemy but to cast 
 suspicion upon a certain unit within his own ranks. To 
 be deprived of active duty in the field was to his warm 
 and impulsive nature an ignominious calamity. To 
 learn subsequently of the appointment of Gates to the 
 second in command, the one general whom he despised 
 and hated, was more than his irritable temperament 
 could stand. The American cause now appeared hope- 
 less to him, nevertheless he entertained no thought of 
 deserting it. He had performed his duty in its behalf, 
 as his wounded limb often reminded him, and it was 
 only fitting that he, who alone had destroyed a whole 
 army of the enemy, should be rewarded with due con- 
 sideration. Congress had ever been unfriendly to him 
 and he had resented their action, or their failure to 
 take proper action, most bitterly. Throughout it all 
 his personal feelings had guided to a large extent his 
 faculty of judgment, and for that reason he viewed 
 with mistrust and suspicion every intent and purpose, 
 however noble or exalted. 
 
 He had been violently opposed to the alliance with 
 France from the start. It was notorious that he ab-
 
 156 THE LOYALIST 
 
 horred Catholics and all things Catholic. To take sides 
 with a Catholic and despotic power which had been a 
 deadly foe to the colonists ten or twenty years before, 
 during the days of the French and Indian wars, was to 
 his mind a measure at once unpatriotic and indiscreet. 
 In this also, he had been actuated by his personal feel- 
 ings more than by the study of the times. For he 
 loathed Popery and the thousand and one macj/ma- 
 tions and atrocities which he was accustomed to link 
 with the name. 
 
 The idea of forming a regiment of Catholic soldiers 
 interested him not in the numerical strength which 
 might be afforded the enemy but in the defection which 
 would be caused to the American side. His scheme 
 lay in the hope that the Catholic members of Con- 
 gress would be tempted to resign. In that event he 
 would obtain evident satisfaction not alone in the weak- 
 ness to which the governing body would be exposed but 
 also in the ill repute to which American Catholics and 
 their protestations of loyalty would fall. 
 
 Arnold deep down in his own heart knew that his 
 motives were not unmixed. He could not accuse him- 
 self of being outrageously mercenary, yet he was 
 ashamed to be forced to acknowledge even to himself 
 that the desire of gain was present to his mind. His 
 debts were enormous. He entertained in a manner 
 and after a style far in excess of his modest allowance. 
 His dinners were the most sumptuous in the town; his 
 stable the finest; his dress the richest. And no wonder 
 that his play, his table, his balls, his concerts, his ban- 
 quets had soon exhausted his fortune. Congress owed 
 him money, his speculations proved unfortunate, his 
 privateering ventures met with disaster. With debts 
 accumulating and creditors giving him no peace he
 
 THE LOYALIST 157 
 
 turned to the gap which he saw opening before him. 
 This was an opportunity not to be despised. 
 
 "About that little matter how soon might I be 
 favored?" the Governor asked, rising from his chair 
 and limping with his cane across the room. 
 
 "You refer to the matter of reimbursements?" An- 
 derson asked nonchalantly. 
 
 "I do." 
 
 He gazed from the window with his back turned to 
 his visitor. 
 
 "I shall draw an order for you at once." 
 
 "You shall do nothing of the kind." 
 
 He looked fiercely at him. 
 
 "You are playing a clever game, are you not? But 
 you have to cope now with a clever adversary." 
 
 He walked deliberately before him, and continued: 
 
 "Anderson," he said, "I want to tell you I know 
 who you are and for what purpose you have been sent 
 here. I know too by whom you have been sent. I 
 knew it before you were here twenty-four hours and I 
 want to tell you now before we continue that we may 
 as well understand each other in a thorough manner. 
 If you desire my assistance you must pay me well for 
 it. And it must be in legal tender." 
 
 "Of course but but the truth is that I am in no 
 way prepared to make any offer now. I can communi- 
 cate with you in a few days, or a week." 
 
 "Don't come here. You must not be seen here again. 
 Send it to me or better still meet me." 
 
 "Can you trust the Shippens?" 
 
 "Absolutely." 
 
 "Why not there?" 
 
 "You mean to confer with me there?"
 
 158 THE LOYALIST 
 
 "If it is safe, as you say, where would be more suit- 
 able?'' 
 
 "True. But I must have some money as soon as 
 possible. The nation is bankrupt and my pay is long 
 overdue. I cannot, however, persuade the creditors 
 any longer. I must have money." 
 
 "You shall have it. At Shippen's then." 
 
 He rose and walked directly to the door. 
 
 "Next week." 
 
 He shut the door after him and hurried along the 
 corridor. As he turned he came face to face with a 
 countenance entirely familiar to him but momentarily 
 lost to his consciousness by its sudden and unexpected 
 appearance. In a second, however, he had recovered 
 himself. 
 
 "Captain! I am pleased indeed." 
 
 He put out his hand. 
 
 Stephen thought for a moment. Then he grasped it. 
 
 "Mr. Anderson. What good fortune is this?" 
 
 "Complimentary. Simply paying my respects for 
 kindness rendered." 
 
 "Have a care lest your zeal overwhelm you." 
 
 Anderson colored at the allusion. 
 
 "Thank you. I shall exercise all moderation." 
 
 Stephen watched him as he moved away, deliberat- 
 ing hurriedly on the advisability of starting after him. 
 Whatever his mission or his purpose, he would not 
 learn in this house certainly, nor from him nor from 
 Arnold for that matter. If he was intent on securing 
 information concerning this man he must do it in a 
 surreptitious manner. There was no other method of 
 dealing with him, he thought, and in view of such cir- 
 cumstances he deemed it perfectly legitimate to follow 
 him at a safe distance.
 
 THE LOYALIST 159 
 
 The more he thought over it the more readily did 
 he resolve to take action to the end that he might see 
 more of him. Whatever mischief was afoot, and he 
 had no more than a mere suspicion that there was mis- 
 chief afoot, must reveal itself sooner or later. His 
 object in all probability had already been accomplished, 
 nevertheless his errand, if he was engaged on an er- 
 rand, might be disclosed. He would follow him if 
 for no other purpose than to learn of his destination. 
 
 Second Street was now astir with a lively procession. 
 There, every day when business was over, when the 
 bank was closed, when the exchange was deserted, 
 crowds of seekers came to enjoy the air and to display 
 their rich garments. There might be found the gentle- 
 men of fashion and of means, with their great three- 
 cornered cocked hats, resting majestically upon their 
 profusely powdered hair done up in cues, their light 
 colored coats, with their diminutive capes and long 
 backs, their striped stockings, pointed shoes, and lead- 
 laden cuffs, paying homage to the fair ladies of the 
 town. These, too, were gorgeous in their brocades 
 and taffetas, luxuriantly displayed over cumbrous 
 hoops, tower-built hats, adorned with tall feathers, 
 high wooden heels and fine satin petticoats. It was 
 an imposing picture to behold these gayly dressed 
 damsels gravely return the salutations of their gal- 
 lant admirers and courtesy almost to the ground before 
 them. 
 
 Stephen searched deliberately for his man through- 
 out the length of the crowded thoroughfare, standing 
 the while on the topmost step of the Governor's Man- 
 sion that great old-fashioned structure resembling in 
 many details a fortification, with its two wings like 
 bastions extending to the rear, its spacious yard en-
 
 160 THE LOYALIST 
 
 closed with a high wall and ornamented with two great 
 rows of lofty pine trees. It was the most stately house 
 within the confines of the city and, with Christ Church, 
 helped to make Second Street one of the aristocratic 
 thoroughfares of the town. 
 
 It was with difficulty that Stephen discerned Ander- 
 son walking briskly in the direction of Market Street. 
 He set off immediately, taking care to keep at a safe 
 distance behind him. He met several acquaintances, 
 to whom he doffed his hat and returned their after- 
 noon greeting, while he pursued his quest with lively 
 interest and attention. Market Street was reached, 
 and here he was obliged to pause near a shop window 
 lest he might overtake Anderson, who had halted to 
 exchange pleasantries with a young and attractive 
 couple. On they went again deliberately and persist- 
 ently until at length it began to dawn upon Stephen 
 that they were headed for the Germantown road, and 
 for Allison's house. 
 
 What strange relation was arising between Mar- 
 jorie and that man? Anderson was paying marked at- 
 tention to her, he began to muse to himself, too much 
 attention perhaps, for one whose whole existence was 
 clouded with a veil of mystery. Undoubtedly he was 
 meeting with some encouragement, if not reciprocation 
 (perish the thought!), for he was persistent in his at- 
 tention. Yet this man was not without charm. There 
 was something fascinating about him which even Ste- 
 phen must confess was compelling. What if she had 
 been captivated by him, by his engaging personal quali- 
 ties, by his prepossessing appearance, by his habit of 
 gentle speech, by his dignity and his ease of manner! 
 His irritation was justifiable. 
 
 There was little doubt now as to Anderson's desti-
 
 THE LOYALIST 161 
 
 nation. Plainly he was bent on one purpose. The more 
 he walked, the more evident this became. Stephen 
 would be assured, however, and pursued his way until 
 he had seen with his own eyes his man turn into Alli- 
 son's house. And not until then did he halt. Turning 
 deliberately he began to retrace his steps. 
 
 II 
 
 "This looks like the kind of book. Has it the 
 'Largo'?" 
 
 Anderson sat on the music-stool before the clavi- 
 chord turning over the pages of a volume that rested 
 on the rack. 
 
 "Perhaps. I scarce think I know what it is. I have 
 never heard it." 
 
 Marjorie was nearby. She had been musing over 
 the keys, letting her fingers wander where they would, 
 when he had called. He would not disturb her for all 
 the world, nevertheless he did yield to her entreaties 
 to take her place on the stool. 
 
 "You have never heard Handel? The 'Largo' or 
 the greatest of all oratorios, his 'Messiah'?" 
 
 "Never!" 
 
 He did not reply to this. Instead he broke into the 
 opening chords, the sweetly solemn, majestic harmony 
 of the 'Largo'. He played it entirely from memory, 
 very slowly, very softly at first, until the measured 
 notes,, swelling into volume, filled the room in a loud 
 arpeggio. 
 
 That is beautiful," she exclaimed with enthusiasm, 
 "I should have said 'exquisite'. May I learn it?" 
 
 "Surely there must be a copy in the city. I shall 
 consider it a favor to procure one for you."
 
 1 62 THE LOYALIST 
 
 "I should be delighted, I am sure." 
 
 He played it again. She regarded him from above. 
 It was astonishing to note the perfect ease and grace 
 with which he performed. The erect carriage, the fine 
 cut of the head, the delicately carved features became 
 the objects of her attention in their inverse order, and 
 the richly endowed talents, with which he was so sig-. 
 nally accomplished, furnished objects of special con- 
 sideration to her reflective soul. He was exceedingly 
 fascinating and a dangerous object to pit against the 
 heart of any woman. Still Marjorie was shrewd 
 enough to peer beneath his superficial qualities, allow- 
 ing herself to become absorbed in a penetrating study 
 of the man, his character, his peculiarities; so ab- 
 sorbed, in fact, that the door behind her opened and 
 closed without attracting her attention. 
 
 "I must obtain that copy," she announced as she 
 turned towards her chair. 
 
 "Why, Father!" she exclaimed. "When did you 
 come? Mr. Anderson, Father. You already know 
 him." 
 
 "Well met, my boy. You are somewhat of a musi- 
 cian. I was listening." 
 
 "Just enough for my own amusement," laughed the 
 younger man. "I know a few notes." 
 
 "Be not quick to believe him, Father. He plays 
 beautifully." 
 
 Mr. Allison sat down. 
 
 "Accomplishments are useful ornaments. Now- 
 adays a man succeeds best who can best impress. 
 People want to see one's gifts." 
 
 "The greatest of talents often lie buried. Pros- 
 perity thrives on pretense."
 
 THE LOYALIST 163 
 
 "True. I'm beginning to think that way myself, the 
 way things 're going." 
 
 "With the war?" he asked. 
 
 "With everything. I think Congress will fail to 
 realize its boasts, and Arnold is a huge pretender, 
 and " 
 
 "He has lost favor with the people." 
 
 "Lost it? He never had it from the day he arrived. 
 People do not like that sort of thing." 
 
 Anderson watched him intently and Marjorie 
 watched Anderson. 
 
 "He may resign for a command in the army. I have 
 heard it said that he dislikes his office." 
 
 "Would to God he did! Or else go over to the 
 other side." 
 
 Anderson's head turned the least little fraction 
 so that Marjorie could see the flash light up his eyes. 
 
 "He could not desert the cause now without becom- 
 ing a traitor." 
 
 A pause followed. 
 
 "Men of lofty patriotism often disagree in the man- 
 ner of political action. We have many Loyalists 
 among us." 
 
 "Yet they are not patriots." 
 
 "No I They are not, viewed from our standpoint. 
 But every colony has a different motive in the war. 
 Now that some have obtained their rights, they are 
 satisfied with the situation. I don't know but that we 
 would be as well off if the present state of affairs were 
 allowed to stand." 
 
 "What do the Catholics of the Colonies think?" 
 
 This was a bold question, yet he ventured to ask it. 
 
 "We would fare as well with England as with some 
 of our own," answered Marjorie decisively.
 
 164 THE LOYALIST 
 
 Anderson looked at her for a minute. 
 
 "Never!" replied Mr. Allison with emphasis. 
 
 "See how Canada fared," insisted Marjorie. 
 
 "Tush!" 
 
 Anderson listened attentively. Here was a division 
 of opinion within the same family; the father intensely 
 loyal, the daughter somewhat inclined to analysis. A 
 new light was thrown upon her from this very instant 
 which afforded him a very evident satisfaction, a very 
 definite and conscious enjoyment as well. To have 
 discovered this mind of apparent candor and unaffected 
 breadth was of supreme import to him at this critical 
 moment. And he felt assured that he had met with a 
 character of more than ordinary self-determination 
 which might, if tuned properly, display a capacity for 
 prodigious possibilities, for in human nature he well 
 knew the chord of self-interest to be ever responsive 
 to adequate and opportune appeal. 
 
 Marjorie might unconsciously prove advantageous 
 to him. It was essential for the maturing of his plans 
 to obtain Catholic cooperation. She was a devout 
 adherent and had been, insofar as he had been able to 
 discover, an ardent Whig. True, he had but few occa- 
 sions to study her, nevertheless today had furnished 
 him with an inkling which gave her greater breadth in 
 his eyes than he was before conscious of. The remark 
 just made might indicate that she favored foreign rule 
 in the interest of religious toleration, yet such a 
 declaration was by no means decisive. Still he would 
 labor to this end in the hope that she might ultimately 
 see her way clear to cooperate with him in his designs. 
 
 "We are losing vast numbers through the Alliance," 
 volunteered Anderson. 
 
 "I suppose so," admitted Mr. Allison. "Many of
 
 THE LOYALIST 165 
 
 the colonists cannot endure the thought of begging 
 assistance from a great Roman Catholic power. They 
 fear, perhaps, that France will use the opportunity to 
 inflict on us the worst form of colonialism and destroy 
 the Protestant religion." 
 
 "But it isn't the Protestants who are deserting," 
 persisted Anderson. "The Catholics are not unmind- 
 ful of the hostile spirit displayed by the colonists in 
 the early days. They, too, are casting different lots." 
 
 "Not we. Every one of us is a Whig. Some have 
 faltered, but we do not want them." 
 
 "And yet the reports from New York seem to indi- 
 cate that the recruiting there is meeting with success." 
 
 "The Catholic regiment? I'll wager that it never 
 will exist except on paper. There are no Tories, no 
 falterers, no final deserters among the American 
 Catholics." 
 
 "What efforts are being made in Philadelphia?" 
 asked Marjorie. 
 
 "None that I know of," was the grave reply. "I 
 did hear, however, that an opportunity would be given 
 those who are desirous of enlisting in New York." 
 
 Marjorie sat and watched him. 
 
 "I heard Father Farmer was invited to become its 
 chaplain," observed Mr. Allison. 
 
 "Did he?" 
 
 "He did not. He told me himself that he wrote a 
 kind letter with a stern refusal." 
 
 And so they talked; talked into the best part of an 
 hour, now of the city's activities, now of the Governor, 
 now of the success of the campaign, until Anderson 
 felt that he had long overstayed his leave. 
 
 "I am sorry to leave your company." Then to 
 Marjorie, "At Shippen's tomorrow?"
 
 1 66 THE LOYALIST 
 
 "Yes. Will you come for me? If you won't I 
 daresay I shall meet you there." 
 
 "Of course I shall come. Please await me." 
 
 Ill 
 
 That there was a state of pure sensation and of gay 
 existence for Marjorie in the presence of this man, 
 she knew very well; and while she felt that she did not 
 care for him, nevertheless she was conscious of a cer- 
 tain subtle influence about him which she was power- 
 less to define. It has been said that not all who know 
 their mind know their own heart; for the heart often 
 perceives and reasons in a manner wholly peculiar to 
 itself. Marjorie was aware of this and the utmost 
 effort was required of her to respond solely to the less 
 alluring promptings of her firm will. 
 
 She would allow him to see her again that she might 
 learn more about him and his strange origin. Stephen 
 had suggested to her the merest suspicion concerning 
 him. There was the possibility that the germ of this 
 suspicion might develop, and in her very presence. 
 The contingency was certainly equal to the adventure. 
 
 It was not required that she pay a formal call on 
 Peggy- Already had that been done, immediately 
 after the announcement of the engagement, when she 
 had come to offer congratulations to the prospective 
 bride upon her enviable and happy fortune. The note, 
 which again had come into her possession upon Ste- 
 phen's return of it, whose contents were still unknown 
 to her, she had restored to Peggy, together with a full 
 explanation of its loss and its subsequent discovery. 
 One phase of its history, however, she had purposely 
 overlooked. It might have proved embarrassing for
 
 THE LOYALIST 167 
 
 her to relate how it chanced to fall into the hands of 
 Stephen. And inasmuch as he had made no comment 
 upon its return, she was satisfied that the incident was 
 unworthy of the mention. 
 
 Anderson called promptly on the hour and found 
 her waiting. They left the house at once and by 
 mutual agreement walked the entire distance. This 
 was preferable, for there was no apparent haste to 
 reach their destination, and for the present no greater 
 desire throbbed within them than the company of 
 their own selves. For they talked continually of 
 themselves and for that reason could never weary of 
 each other's company. 
 
 The country about them was superb. The fields 
 stood straight in green and gold on every side of the 
 silvery road. Beside them as they passed, great trees 
 reared themselves aloft from the greensward, which 
 divided the road from the footpath, and rustled in 
 the breeze, allowing the afternoon sunshine to reveal 
 itself in patches and glimpses; and the air between was 
 a sea of subdued light, resonant with the liquid notes 
 of the robin and the whistle of the quail, intruders 
 upon the uniform tranquillity of the hot Sunday after- 
 noon. 
 
 "Does it not strike you that there are but few per- 
 sons with whom it is possible to converse seriously?" 
 
 "Seriously?" asked Marjorie. "What do you call 
 seriously?" 
 
 "In an intelligent manner, together with perfect 
 ease and attention." 
 
 "I suppose that this is true on account of the great 
 want of sincerity among men." 
 
 "That, as well as the impatient desire we possess of 
 intruding our own thoughts upon our hearer with little
 
 1 68 THE LOYALIST 
 
 or no desire of listening to those which he himself may 
 want to express." 
 
 "We are sincere with no one but ourselves, don't you 
 think? The mere fact of the entrance of a second 
 person means that we must try to impress him. You 
 have said that prosperity thrives on pretense." 
 
 "And I repeat it. But with friends all guile and 
 dissimulation ceases. We often praise the merits of 
 our neighbor in the hope that he in turn will praise us. 
 Only a few have the humility and the whole-hearted 
 simplicity to listen well and to answer well. Sincerity 
 to my mind is often a snare to gain the confidence of 
 others." 
 
 There was depth to his reasoning, Marjorie thought, 
 which was riddle-like as well. It was amazing to her 
 how well he could talk on any given topic, naturally, 
 easily, seriously, as the case might be. He never 
 seemed to assume the mastery of any conversation, 
 nor to talk with an air of authority on any subject, 
 for he was alive to all topics and entered into them 
 with the same apparent cleverness and animated inter- 
 est. 
 
 He stopped suddenly and exerted a gentle though 
 firm pressure on her arm, obliging her to halt her steps. 
 Surprised, she turned and looked at him. 
 
 "What is it?" she asked. 
 
 There was no response. Instead, she looked in the 
 direction of his gaze. Then she saw. 
 
 A large black snake lay in graceful curves across 
 their path several rods ahead. Its head was somewhat 
 elevated and rigid. Before it fluttered a small chicka- 
 dee in a sort of strange, though powerless fascination, 
 its wings partly open in a trembling manner, its chirp 
 noisy and incessant, its movement rapid and nervous,
 
 THE LOYALIST 169 
 
 as it partly advanced, partly retreated before its en- 
 chanter. Nearer and nearer it came, with a great 
 scurrying of the feet and wings, towards the motionless 
 head of the serpent. Until Anderson, picking a stone 
 from the roadside, threw a well-aimed shot which 
 bounded over the head of the snake, causing it to turn 
 immediately and crawl into the recesses of the deep 
 underbrush of the adjoining field. The bird, freed 
 from the source of its sinister charm, flew out of sight 
 into safety. 
 
 "Thank God!" Marjorie breathed. "I was greatly 
 frightened." 
 
 "Nothing would have saved that bird," was the 
 reply. "It already was powerless." 
 
 Marjorie did not answer to this, but became very 
 quiet and pensive. They walked on in silence. 
 
 Nearing the home of Peggy, they beheld General 
 Arnold seated before them on the spacious veranda in 
 the company of his betrothed. Here was intrusion 
 with a vengeance, Marjorie thought, but the beaming 
 face and the welcoming expression soon dispelled her 
 fears. 
 
 "Miss Shippen," Anderson said, as he advanced 
 immediately toward her to seize her hand, "allow me 
 to offer my tender though tardy congratulations. It 
 was with the greatest joy that I listened to the happy 
 
 announcement." 
 
 "You are most kind, Mr. Anderson, and I thank 
 you for it," was the soft response. 
 
 "And you, General," said Marjorie. "Let me con- 
 gratulate you upon your excellent choice." 
 
 "Rather upon my good fortune," the Governor re- 
 plied with a generous smile. 
 
 Peggy blushed at the compliment.
 
 170 THE LOYALIST 
 
 "How long before we may be enabled to offer sim- 
 ilar greetings to you?" he asked of Mr. Anderson, 
 who was assisting Marjorie into a chair by the side of 
 Peggy. 
 
 u Ohl Love rules his own kingdom and I am an 
 alien." 
 
 He drew himself near to the Governor and the con- 
 versation turned naturally and generally to the de- 
 licious evening. The very atmosphere thrilled with 
 romance.
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 Stephen was sitting in his room, his feet crossed on 
 a foot-rest before him, his eyes gazing into the side 
 street that opened full before his window. He had 
 been reading a number of dispatches and letters piled 
 in a small heap in his lap; but little by little had laid 
 them down again to allow his mind to run into reflec- 
 tion and study. And so he sat and smoked. 
 
 It seemed incredible that events of prime importance 
 were transpiring in the city and that the crisis was so 
 soon upon him. For nearly three months he had been 
 accumulating, methodically and deliberately, a chain of 
 incriminating evidence around the Military Governor 
 and John Anderson, still he was utterly unaware of its 
 amazing scope and magnitude. Perfidy was at work 
 all around him and he was powerless to interfere; for 
 the intrigue had yet to reach that point where convic- 
 tion could be assured. Nevertheless, he continued to 
 advance step by step with the events, and sensed keenly 
 the while, the tension which was beginning to exist but 
 which he could not very well point out. 
 
 He had kept himself fully informed of the progress 
 of affairs in New York, where the recruiting was being 
 accomplished in an undisguised manner. The real 
 facts, however, were being adroitly concealed from 
 the bulk of the populace. Information of a surprising 
 
 171
 
 172 THE LOYALIST 
 
 nature had been forwarded to him from time to time 
 in the form of dispatches and letters, all of which now 
 lay before him, while a certain Sergeant Griffin had 
 already been detailed by him to carry out the more 
 hazardous work of espionage in the city of the enemy. 
 The latter was in a fair Vay to report now on the 
 progress of the work and had returned to Philadelphia 
 for this very purpose. 
 
 Irish Catholics had been found in the British Army 
 at New York, but they had been impressed into the 
 service. Sergeant Griffin had spoken to many deserters 
 who avowed that they had been brought to the colonies 
 against their own will, declaring that they had been 
 "compelled to go on board the transports where they 
 were chained down to the ring-bolts and fed with 
 bread and water; several of whom suffered" this torture 
 before they could be made to yield and sign the papers 
 of enlistment." In confirmation of this declaration, 
 he had in his lap a letter written to General Washing- 
 ton by Arthur Lee, June 15, 1777, which read: "Every 
 man of a regiment raised in Ireland last year had to be 
 shipped off tied and bound, and most certainly they will 
 desert more than any troops whatsoever." To cor- 
 roborate this claim he had obtained several clippings, 
 advertisements that had appeared in the New York 
 newspapers, offering rewards for the apprehension of 
 Irish soldiers who had deserted to the rebels. 
 
 The same methods he learned were now being em- 
 ployed in the recruiting of the Catholic regiment. 
 Blackmail had been resorted to with splendid results. 
 In several instances enormous debts had been liqui- 
 dated in favor of the recruits. Even commissions in 
 the army of His Majesty had been offered as a bounty. 
 There was success, if the few hundred faces in the
 
 THE LOYALIST 173 
 
 ranks could be reckoned as a fair catch, yet the meth- 
 ods of recruiting did not begin to justify the fewness 
 of the numbers. 
 
 Just how this idea had taken root, he was at a loss 
 to discover. Certainly not from the disloyalty mani- 
 fested by the Catholic population during the war. The 
 exploits of the famous "Congress' Own" Regiments 
 might, he thought, have contributed much to the en- 
 emy's scheme. It was commonly known that two regi- 
 ments of Catholics from Canada, raised in that north- 
 ern province during the winter of 1775-76, had done 
 valiant service against the British. A great number 
 of the Canadian population had welcomed the patriots 
 under Generals Schuyler, Montgomery and Arnold 
 upon their attempted invasion of the country, and had 
 given much assistance towards the success of their 
 operations. Inasmuch as many had sought enlistment 
 in the ranks as volunteers,, an opportunity was fur- 
 nished them by an act of Congress on January 20, 
 1776, authorizing the formation of two Canadian regi- 
 ments of soldiers to be known as "Congress' Own." 
 The First was organized by Colonel James Living- 
 ston; the Second by Colonel Moses Hazen. Both of 
 these regiments continued in active service for the 
 duration of the war, and both obtained a vote of 
 thanks from the American Congress upon its termina- 
 tion. 
 
 Herein, then, must lay the germ of the project of 
 the British Regiment of Roman Catholic Volunteers. 
 
 He sat and considered. 
 
 "You tell me, then," he said quietly, "that this is 
 the state of affairs in New York." 
 
 "Yes, sir," replied the soldier. 
 
 There was a further silence.
 
 174 THE LOYALIST 
 
 II 
 
 The progress of the work in the city of Philadelphia 
 had been less evident to him. Certain it was that An- 
 derson was directing his undivided attention to the 
 furtherance of the plan, for which task he had been 
 admirably endowed by Nature. That Arnold, too, 
 was greatly interested in the success of the plot, he 
 already suspected, but in this he had no more than a 
 suspicion, for he could not discover the least incrim- 
 inating objective evidence against him. There were 
 several whose names had been associated with the 
 work; yet these, too, had revealed nothing, when con- 
 fronted with a direct question. And whatever influ- 
 ence he might have had, whatever lurking suspicions 
 he might have accumulated from the contributory de- 
 tails, these when simmered down amounted to little or 
 nothing. The plan had not progressed to the extent 
 required. There was nothing to do but to await fur- 
 ther developments. 
 
 This man Anderson was ingenuous. The most 
 striking characteristic about him, that towards which 
 and in support of which every energy and every talent 
 had been schooled and bent, was an intrepid courage. 
 A vast and complicated scheme of ambition possessed 
 his whole soul, yet his disposition and address generally 
 appeared soft and humane, especially when no political 
 object was at stake. 
 
 During the four or five months spent in the city, he 
 had made a host of friends among all classes of people. 
 His agreeable manner and his fluency of speech at 
 once gained for him the confidence even of the most 
 phlegmatic. No man was endowed with more engag- 
 ing qualities for the work, if it may be assumed that
 
 THE LOYALIST 175 
 
 he was engaged solely in the recruiting of a Tory 
 Regiment from among the supporters of the Whigs. 
 Everything seemed to declare that he was associated 
 with the work. And because he was associated with it, 
 it progressed. 
 
 The names of several who had yielded allegiance to 
 the opposite side were in the hands of Stephen. The 
 Major of the new regiment was a Catholic, John 
 Lynch. So were Lieutenant Eck, Lieutenant Kane, 
 and Quartermaster Nowland. These were at present 
 in New York, whither they had journeyed soon after 
 the British occupation of the city. Of the hundred- 
 odd volunteers, who were supposed to constitute the 
 company, little could be learned because of the veil of 
 secrecy which had from the very beginning enshrouded 
 the whole movement. 
 
 Pressure had been brought to bear on several, it 
 was discovered, with the result that there was no alter- 
 native left them but to sign the papers of enlistment. 
 In this Anderson had been materially aided by the 
 Military Governor's intimate knowledge of the for- 
 tunes and prospects of the bulk of the citizenry. To 
 imply this, however, was one thing; to prove it quite 
 another. For whatever strength the accusation might 
 bear in his own mind, he could not forget that it was 
 still a mere suspicion, which must be endorsed by in- 
 vestigation if the people were to be convinced. And 
 Stephen was unprepared to offer the results of his in- 
 vestigation to a populace which was too indolent and 
 hasty to investigate them as facts and to discriminate 
 nicely between the shades of guilt. Anderson was 
 loved and admired by his countrymen and more espe- 
 cially by his countrywomen. Everything, it seemed, 
 would be forgiven his youth, rank and genius.
 
 176 THE LOYALIST 
 
 Even Marjorie had been captivated by him, it ap- 
 peared. The relationship which was beginning to 
 thrive between them he disliked, and some day he 
 would make that known to her. How attentive he had 
 been to her was easily recognizable, but to what degree 
 she returned this attention was another matter. What 
 she thought of this stranger and to what extent he had 
 impressed her, he longed to know, for it was weeks 
 since he had laid eyes on her; and the last two attempts 
 made by him to see her had found her in the company 
 of Anderson, once at Shippen's, and again on a ride 
 through the country. True, he himself had been ab- 
 sent from town for a brief time, immediately after his 
 court-martial, when he returned to headquarters to 
 file a report with his Commander-in-chief, and the few 
 moments spent with her upon his return was the last 
 visit. Undoubtedly he was a stranger to her now; she 
 was absorbed with the other man. 
 
 Still Stephen wished that he might see her. An in- 
 satiable longing filled his whole soul, like the eternal 
 cravings of the heart for communion with the Infinite. 
 There was certain situations where a man or woman 
 must confide in some person to obtain advice or sym- 
 pathy, or simply to unload the soul, and there was no 
 one more becoming to Stephen than this girl. She 
 understood him and could alleviate by her sole pres- 
 ence, not through any gift properly made, but by that 
 which radiated from her alone, the great weight which 
 threatened to overwhelm his whole being. Simply to 
 converse with her might constitute the prophecy of a 
 benign existence. 
 
 He determined to see her that very evening.
 
 THE LOYALIST 177 
 
 in 
 
 "Marjorie," said Stephen, "of course you've a per- 
 fect right to do exactly as you like. But, you know, 
 you did ask my opinion; didn't you?" 
 
 "I did," said Marjorie, frowning. "But I disagree 
 
 with you. And I think you do him a grave injustice." 
 
 i 
 
 She had been seated in a large comfortable chair in 
 the middle of the side yard when he entered. A ball 
 of black yarn which, with the aid of two great needles, 
 she was industriously engaged in converting into an 
 article of wearing apparel, lay by her side. Indeed, so 
 engrossed was she, that he had opened and closed the 
 gate before her attention was aroused. She rose imme- 
 diately, laying her knitting upon the chair, and ad- 
 vanced to meet him. 
 
 "I haven't seen you in ages. Where have you 
 been?" 
 
 He looked at her. 
 
 "Rather let me ask that question," was his query by 
 way of reply. "Already twice have I failed to find 
 you." 
 
 They walked together to the chairs; she to her own, 
 he to a smaller one that stood over against them. 
 
 "That you called once, I know. Mother informed 
 
 me." 
 
 "You were similarly engaged on both occasions." 
 
 He brought his chair near to her. 
 
 "With Mr. Anderson?" 
 
 She smiled straight in his face. 
 
 "Of course." 
 
 He, too, smiled. 
 
 "Well I" then after a pause, "do you object?"
 
 178 THE LOYALIST 
 
 He did not answer. His fingers drummed nervously 
 on the arm of his chair and he looked far up the road. 
 
 "You do not like him?" she asked quickly. 
 
 "It would be impossible for me to now tell you. As 
 a matter of fact, I myself have been unable to form a 
 definite opinion. I may let you know later. Not 
 
 now." 
 
 A deep sigh escaped her. 
 
 "I should imagine you could read a man at first 
 sight," she exclaimed. 
 
 "I never allowed myself that presumption. Men 
 are best discovered at intervals. They are most nat- 
 ural when off their guard. Habit may restrain vice, 
 and passion obscures virtue. I prefer to let them 
 alone." 
 
 She bit her lip, as her manner was, and continued to 
 observe him. How serious he was ! The buoyant, 
 tender, blithesome disposition which characterized his 
 former self, had yielded to a temper of saturnine com- 
 plexion, a mien of grave and thoughtful composure. 
 He was analytic and she began to feel herself a simple 
 compound in the hands of an expert chemist. 
 
 I am sorry to have caused you a disappointment." 
 
 "Please, let me assure you there is no need of an 
 apology." 
 
 "And you were not disappointed?" 
 
 A smile began to play about the corners of her small 
 mouth. She tried to be humorous. 
 
 "Perhaps. But not to the extent of requiring an 
 apology." 
 
 "You might have joined us." 
 
 "You know better than that." 
 
 "I mean it. Peggy would have been pleased to have 
 you."
 
 THE LOYALIST 179 
 
 "Did she say so?" 
 
 "No. Dut I know that she would." 
 
 "Alas!" He raised his arm in a slight gesture. 
 
 She was knitting now, talking as she did. She 
 paused to raise her eyes. 
 
 "I think you dislike Peggy," she said with evident 
 emphasis. 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 "I scarce know. My instinct, I suppose." 
 
 "I distrust her, if that is what you mean?" 
 
 "Have you had reason?" 
 
 "I cannot answer you now, for which I am very 
 sorry. You will find my reasoning correct at some 
 future time, I hope." 
 
 "Do you approve of my friendship with her?" 
 
 She did not raise her eyes this time, but allowed 
 them to remain fixed upon the needles. 
 
 "It is not mine to decide. You are mistress of your 
 own destinies." 
 
 Her face grew a shade paler, and the look in her 
 eyes deepened. 
 
 "I simply asked your advice, that was all." 
 
 The words hit so hard that he drew his breath. He 
 realized that he had been brusque and through his soul 
 there poured a kind of anger first, then wounded pride, 
 then a sense of crushing pain. 
 
 "I regret having said that," he tried to explain to 
 her. "But I cannot tell you what is in my mind. Since 
 you do ask me, I fear Peggy greatly, but I would not 
 say that your friendship with her should cease. Not 
 at present, anyhow." 
 
 "Well, did you approve of my going there with Mr. 
 Anderson?" 
 
 "With him? No,"
 
 i8o THE LOYALIST 
 
 "Can you tell me the reason?" 
 
 And then he explained briefly to her of his reasons 
 for disliking this man and of the veil of suspicion and 
 of mystery with which he was surrounded. He did 
 not think him a suitable companion for her, and 
 wished for her own good that she would see no more 
 of him. 
 
 There was no reply to his observations. On the 
 contrary Marjorie lapsed into a meditative silence 
 which seemed to grow deeper and deeper as the mo- 
 ments passed. Stephen watched her until the suspense 
 became almost beyond endurance, wondering what 
 thoughts were coursing through her mind. 
 
 At length he broke the silence with the words re- 
 corded at the beginning of the chapter; and Marjorie 
 answered him quietly and deliberately. 
 
 She continued with her knitting. 
 
 IV 
 
 A great melancholy fell upon him, if it were indeed 
 possible for him to become more dispirited, against 
 which he was powerless to contend. There was re- 
 vealed to him on the instant a seeming predilection on 
 the part of Marjorie for this man, Anderson. The 
 longer they conversed, the deeper did that conviction 
 grow. This made him careless and petulant. Now a 
 feeling of deep regret stole over him because he had 
 been so unsympathetic. In presence of her feeling of 
 grief and disappointment, his pity was aroused. 
 
 "I deeply regret the pain I have caused you," he 
 said to her quietly and kindly. "It was altogether rude 
 of me." 
 
 She bit her lip violently, tremulously, in an effort to
 
 THE LOYALIST 181 
 
 restrain the flood of emotion which surged within, 
 which threatened to burst forth with the pronunciation 
 of the merest syllable. 
 
 She did not reply, but fumbled with the knitted por- 
 tion of her garment, running its edges through her 
 fingers. 
 
 "I had no intention of speaking of him as I did," 
 he went on. "I would not, did you not ask me." 
 
 "I am not offended." 
 
 "Your composure reveals to me that you have been 
 hurt." 
 
 "I did not mean that you should know it." 
 
 "Very likely. But you could not disguise the fact. 
 I shall give you the assurance, however, that the sub- 
 ject shall not be a topic for discussion by us again. He 
 must not be mentioned." 
 
 "Please! I I " 
 
 "It was solely for yourself that I was concerned. 
 Believe me when I say this. Insofar as I myself am 
 concerned, I am wholly disinterested. I thought you 
 desired to know and I told you as much as it was 
 possible for me to tell. You must ask me no more." 
 
 "He has not revealed this side of his character to 
 me and I have been in his company on several occa- 
 sions. Always has he been kind, gentlemanly, sincere, 
 upright." 
 
 Her eyes were centered full upon him, those large 
 brown eyes that seemed to contain her whole being. 
 Whether she was gay or sad, jocose or sober, enthu- 
 siastic or despondent, the nature of her feelings could 
 be communicated solely by her eyes. She need not 
 speak; they spoke for her. 
 
 "You are right in believing every man virtuous until 
 he has proved himself otherwise," he replied. "There
 
 1 82 THE LOYALIST 
 
 should be one weight and one measure. But I regulate 
 my intercourse with men by the opposite standard. I 
 distrust every man until he has proved himself worthy, 
 and it was that principle which guided me, undoubt- 
 edly, in my application of it to you." 
 
 "Do you consider that upright?" 
 
 "Do not misunderstand me. I do not form a rash 
 judgment of every person I meet. As a matter of fact 
 I arrive at no judgment at all. I defer judgment until 
 after the investigation, and I beware of him until this 
 investigation has been completed." 
 
 "You are then obliged to live in a world of sus- 
 picion." 
 
 "No. Rather in a world of security. How often 
 has the knave paraded under the banner of innocence! 
 The greatest thieves wear golden chains." 
 
 "I could not live after such manner." 
 
 She became impatient. 
 
 "Were you thrown into daily relation with the world 
 you would soon learn the art of discrimination. The 
 trusty sentinel lives a life of suspicion." 
 
 At length a truce was silently proclaimed. Com- 
 posure reigned. The unpleasant episode had to all 
 appearances been obliterated from their minds. There 
 was even a touch of that old humor dancing in her 
 eyes. 
 
 "Some one has said," she observed, "that 'suspicion 
 is the poison of friendship.' ' 
 
 "And a Latin proverb runs, 'Be on such terms with 
 your friend as if you knew he may one day become 
 your enemy.' Friendship, I realize, is precious and 
 gained only after long days of probation. The tough 
 fibers of the heart constitute its essence, not the soft
 
 THE LOYALIST 1*3 
 
 texture of favors and dreams. We do not possess the 
 friends we imagine, for the world is self-centered." 
 
 "Have you no friends?" 
 
 Now she smiled for the second time, but it was only 
 a smile of humor about the corners of her mouth. 
 
 "Only those before whom I may be sincere." 
 
 He was serious, inclined to analysis, one might say. 
 
 "Can you expect to find sincerity in others without 
 yourself being sincere?" 
 
 "No. But my friend possesses my other soul. I 
 think aloud before him. It does not matter. I reveal 
 my heart to him, share my joys, unburden my grief. 
 There is a simplicity and a wholesomeness about it all. 
 We are mutually sincere." 
 
 "Your test is severe." 
 
 "But its fruits imperishable." 
 
 "I cannot adopt your method," was the deliberate 
 reply as she began to gather together her ball and 
 needles. 
 
 "Let's leave it at that." 
 
 And they left it. 
 
 Long after he had gone she sat there until it was 
 well into the evening, until the stars began to blink and 
 nod and wrap themselves in the great cloak of the 
 night, as they kept a silent vigil over the subdued 
 silence which had settled down upon the vast earth and 
 herself. 
 
 The longer she sat and considered, the more melan- 
 choly did she become. Stephen was displeased with 
 her conduct and made no effort to conceal it, inflicting 
 only the greater wound by his ambiguous and incisive
 
 'i 84 THE LOYALIST 
 
 remarks. His apparent unconcern and indifference of 
 manner frightened her, and she saw, or she thought 
 she saw a sudden deprivation of that esteem with which 
 she was vain enough to presuppose he was wont to 
 regard her. And yet he was mistaken, greatly mis- 
 taken. Furthermore, he was unfair to himself and 
 unjust to her in the misinterpretation of her behavior. 
 His displeasure pained her beyond endurance. 
 
 In her relations with John Anderson, she had been 
 genuinely sincere both with herself and with Stephen. 
 The latter had asked her to help him; and this she was 
 trying to do in her own way. That there was some- 
 thing suspicious about Anderson, she knew; but 
 whether the cause lay in his manner of action or in the 
 possession of documentary evidence, she could not so 
 much as conjecture. What more apt method could be 
 employed than to associate with him in the hope that 
 at some time or other important information might be 
 imparted to her? She did not intend to play the part 
 of the spy; still if that was the role in which she hoped 
 to find Anderson, she was ready to assume a similar 
 role for the very purpose of outwitting him and defeat- 
 ing him on his own ground. If Stephen would only 
 trust her. Oh, dear! And she wrung her hands in 
 abject despair. 
 
 Little by little her experiences of the summer just 
 past came before her with a vividness which her ex- 
 perience with Stephen served only to intensify. First, 
 there was the night of the Governor's Ball. He had 
 come into her life there, filling a vacancy not realized 
 before. Hitherto, she had been quite content in the 
 company of almost any one, and especially with those 
 of the sterner sex. But with the advent of this dash- 
 ing young officer she began to experience a set of new
 
 THE LOYALIST 185 
 
 sensations. The incompleteness of her life was brought 
 before her. 
 
 He seemed to perfect her being, sharing her pleas- 
 ures, lessening her woes, consoling her heart. Still, 
 there was on office that he had failed to perform; he 
 was not obseqvik^us. Not that he was ever wanting in 
 attention and deferential courtesy, or that he ever 
 failed to betray a warmth of feeling or a generous de- 
 votion; but his manner was prosaic, thoroughly prac- 
 tical both in action and in expression. He spoke his 
 thoughts directly and forcibly. He was never enthu- 
 siastic, never demonstrative, never warm or impulsive, 
 but definite, well-ordered, positive. It was quite true 
 that he was capable of bestowing service to the point 
 of heroism when the occasion required, but such a 
 quality was not spontaneous, because his heart, while 
 intensely sympathetic, appeared cold and absolutely 
 opposed to any sort of outburst. He was too prudent, 
 too wise, too thoughtful, it seemed, acting only when 
 sure of his ground, turning aside from all obstacles 
 liable to irritate or confuse him. 
 
 Then John Anderson came and initiated her into a 
 newer world. He appeared to worship her, and tried 
 to make her feel his devotion in his every act. He 
 was gallant, dignified, charming, lavishing attention 
 upon her to the point of prodigality. He said things 
 which were pleasant to hear< and equally as pleasant 
 to remember. What girl would not be attracted by 
 such engaging personal qualities; but Marjorie decided 
 that he was too much of the Prince Charming whose 
 gentle arts proved to be his sole weapons for the major 
 encounters of life. 
 
 Hence she was not fascinated by his soft accomplish- 
 ments. He interested her, but she readily perceived
 
 1 86 THE LOYALIST 
 
 that there was not in him that real depth which she 
 had found in Stephen. True, he made her feel more 
 like a superior being than as a mere equal; he yielded 
 ever to her slightest whim, and did not discomfort her 
 with weighty arguments. But her acumen was such 
 that she was enabled to penetrate the gloss and ap- 
 praise the man at his true value. The years spent at 
 her mother's knee, the numberless hours in her father's 
 shop where she came in contact with many men, her 
 own temperament, prudent by nature, enabled her to 
 perqeive at a glance the contrast between a man of 
 great and noble heart clothed in severe garments, and 
 the charlatan garbed in the bright finery of festal dress. 
 
 And now the boomerang against which she was de- 
 fending herself struck her from a most unexpected 
 angle. That Stephen should misunderstand her mo- 
 tives was preposterous; yet there was no other infer- 
 ence to be drawn from the tone of his conversation 
 during the few distressful minutes of his last visit. In 
 all probability, he had gone away laboring under the 
 hateful impression that she was untrue, that she had 
 permitted her heart to be taken captive by the first 
 knight errant who had entered the lists. And what was 
 more, the subject would never again be alluded to. He 
 had promised that; and she knew that he was absolute 
 in his determinations. His groundless displeasure dis- 
 concerted her greatly. 
 
 Whether it became her to take the initiative in the 
 healing of the breach which she felt growing wide 
 between them, or simply to await the development of 
 the course of action she had chosen to pursue, now 
 became a problem to her perplexed mind. So much 
 depended upon the view he would take of the whole 
 situation that it was necessary for him to understand
 
 THE LOYALIST 187 
 
 from the very beginning. She would write him. But, 
 no ! That might be premature. She would wait and 
 tell him, so great was her assurance that all would be 
 well. She would tell him of her great and impassion- 
 ate desire to be of assistance to him; she would put 
 into words her analysis of this man's character, this 
 man about whom he himself had first cast the veil of 
 suspicion; she would relate her experience with him. 
 She smiled to herself as she contemplated how pleased 
 he would be once the frown of bewilderment had dis- 
 appeared from his countenance. 
 
 "Marjorie! Dost know the hour is late?" 
 "Yes, Mother! I am coming directly." 
 It was late, though she scarce knew it. Gathering 
 her things, she brought the chairs into the house.
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 Week after week sped by, summer ripened into fall, 
 and fall faded into winter. All was monotony: the 
 bleak winter season, the shorter days, the longer eve- 
 nings, the city settling down into a period of seclusion 
 and social inaction. There would be little of gayety 
 this year. No foreign visitors would be entertained 
 by the townsfolk. There would be no Mischienza to 
 look forward to. It would be a lonely winter for the 
 fashionable element, with no solemn functions, with no 
 weekly dancing assemblies, with no amateur theatricals 
 to rehearse. Indeed were it not for the approaching 
 marriage of Peggy Shippen to the Military Governor, 
 Philadelphia would languish for want of zest and ex- 
 citement. 
 
 The wedding took place at the home of the bride on 
 Fourth Street. The elite of the city, for the most part 
 Tories, were in attendance. Mrs. Anne Willing Mor- 
 ris, Mrs. Bingham all the leaders were there. So 
 were Marjorie, John Anderson, Stephen, the Chews 
 and Miss Franks from New York. The reception was 
 brilliant, eclipsing anything of its kind in the history of 
 the social life of the city, for Mrs. Shippen had vowed 
 that the affair would establish her definitely and for 
 all time the leader of the fashionable set of the town. 
 
 The center of attraction was of course Peggy; and 
 she carried herself well, enduring the trying ordeal 
 
 188
 
 THE LOYALIST 189 
 
 with grace and composure. And if one were to judge 
 by the number and the quality of the gifts which loaded 
 down one whole room, or by the throng which filled 
 the house to overflowing, or by the motley crowd which 
 surged without, impatient for one last look at the 
 bride as she stepped into the splendid coach, a more 
 popular couple was never united in matrimony. It 
 was a great day for all concerned, and none was more 
 happy nor more radiant than Peggy as she sat back in 
 the coach and looked into the face of her husband and 
 sighed with that contentment and complacency which 
 one experiences in the possession of a priceless gem. 
 
 Their homecoming, after the brief honeymoon, was 
 delightful. No longer would they live in the great 
 slate roof house on Second Street at the corner of 
 Norris Alley, but in the more elegant old country seat 
 in Fairmount, on the Schuylkill, Mount Pleasant. 
 Since Arnold had purchased this great estate and set- 
 tled it immediately upon his bride, subject of course to 
 the mortgage, its furnishings and its appointments 
 were of her own choice and taste. 
 
 It rose majestically before them on a bluff over- 
 looking the river, a courtly pile of colonial Georgian 
 architecture whose balustraded and hipped roof seemed 
 to rear itself above the neighboring woodland, so as 
 to command a magnificent broad view of the Schuylkill 
 River and valley for miles around. 
 
 "There! See, General! Isn't it heavenly?" 
 
 She could not conceal her joy. Arnold looked and 
 smiled graciously with evident satisfaction at the quiet 
 homelike aspect of the place. 
 
 Peggy was on the stone landing almost as soon as 
 she emerged from the coach, eager to peep inside, 
 anxious to sit at last in her own home. Although she
 
 1 90 THE LOYALIST 
 
 had already seen all that there was to see, and had 
 spent many days previous to the marriage in arranging 
 and planning the interior so as to have all in readiness 
 for their return on this day, still she seemed to mani- 
 fest a newer and a livelier joy, so pleasant and so per- 
 fect did all appeal. 
 
 "Oh, General! Isn't this just delicious?" And 
 she threw her arms around his neck to give him a gen- 
 erous hug. 
 
 "Are you happy now?" he questioned. 
 
 "Perfectly. Come let us sit and enjoy it." 
 
 She went to the big chair and began to rock ener- 
 getically; but only for a minute, for she spied in the 
 corner of the room the great sofa, and with a sudden 
 movement threw herself on that. She was like a small 
 boy with a host of toys about him, anxious to play with 
 all at the same time, and trying to give to each the same 
 undivided attention. The massive candelabra on the 
 table attracted her, so she turned her attention to that, 
 fixing one of its candles as she neared it. Finally, a 
 small water color of her father, which hung on the wall 
 a little to one side, appealed to her as needing adjust- 
 ment. She paused to regard the profile as she straight- 
 ened it. 
 
 The General observed her from the large chair into 
 which he had flung himself to rest after the journey, 
 following her with his eyes as she flitted about the 
 great drawing-room. For the moment there was no 
 object in that space to determine the angle of his vis- 
 ion, save Peggy, no other objective reality to convey 
 any trace of an image to his imagination but that of 
 his wife. She was the center, the sum-total of all his 
 thoughts, the vivid and appreciable good that regulated 
 his emotions, that controlled his impulses. And the
 
 THE LOYALIST 191 
 
 confident assurance that she was happy, reflected from 
 her very countenance, emphasized by her every gesture 
 as she hurried here and there about the room in joyous 
 contemplation of the divers objects that delighted her 
 fancy, reanimated him with a rapture of ecstasy which 
 he thought for the moment impossible to corporeal 
 beings. The mere pleasure of beholding her supremely 
 happy was for him a source of whole-souled bliss, 
 illimitable and ineffable. 
 
 "Would you care to dine now?" she asked of him as 
 she approached his chair and leaned for support on 
 its arms. "I'll ask Cynthia to make ready." 
 
 "Yes, if you will. That last stage of the trip was 
 exhausting." 
 
 And so these two with all the world in their posses- 
 sion, in each other's company, partook of their first 
 meal together in their own dining-room, in their own 
 private home. 
 
 II 
 
 " 'Thou hast it now, king, Cawdor, Glamis, 
 
 all ' " remarked Arnold to his wife as they made 
 
 their way from the dining-room into the spacious hall- 
 way that ran through the house. 
 
 "Yet it was not foully played," replied Peggy. "The 
 tourney was fair." 
 
 "I had thought of losing you." 
 
 "Did you but read my heart aright at our first meet- 
 ing, you might have consoled yourself otherwise." 
 
 "It was the fear of my letter; the apprehension of 
 its producing a contrary effect that furnished'my mis- 
 giving. I trembled over the consent of your parents." 
 
 "Dost know, too, that my mother favored the match
 
 i 9 2 THE LOYALIST 
 
 from the start? In truth she gave me every encour- 
 agement, perhaps awakened my soul to the flame." 
 
 "No matter. We are in the morning of our bliss; 
 its sun is about to remain fixed. Wish for a cloudless 
 sky." 
 
 They were now in the great drawing-room which 
 ran the full depth of the building, with windows look- 
 ing both east and west. In the middle of the great 
 side wall lodged a full-throated fireplace above which 
 rose imposingly an elaborately wrought overmantel, 
 whose central panel was devoid of any ornamentation. 
 The door frames with their heavily molded pedi- 
 ments, the cornices, pilasters, doortrims and woodwork 
 rich in elaboration of detail were all distinctive Geor- 
 gian, tempered, however, with much dignified restraint 
 and consummate good taste. 
 
 "We can thank the privateer for this. Still it was 
 a fair profit and wisely expended, wiser to my mind 
 than the methods of Robert Morris. At any rate it 
 is the more satisfactory." 
 
 "He has made excellent profits." 
 
 "Nevertheless, he has lost as many as an hundred 
 and fifty vessels. These have affected his earnings 
 greatly. Were he not so generous to an ungrateful 
 people, a great part of his loss might now have been 
 retrieved." 
 
 "I have heard it said, too, that he alone has pro- 
 vided the sinews of the revolt," said Peggy. 
 
 "Unquestionably. On one occasion, at a time of 
 great want, I remember one of his vessels arrived with 
 a cargo of stores and clothing, whose whole contents 
 were given to Washington without any remuneration 
 whatsoever. And you, yourself, remember that during 
 the winter at Valley Forge, just about the time Howe
 
 THE LOYALIST 193 
 
 was evacuating the city, when there were no cartridges 
 in the army but those in the men's boxes, it was he who 
 rose to the emergency by giving all the lead ballast of 
 his favorite privateer. He has made money, but he 
 has lost a vast amount. I made money, too, just be- 
 fore I bought this house. And I have lost money." 
 
 "And have been cheated of more." 
 
 "Yes. Cheated. More generosity from my people I 
 I paid the sailors their share of the prize money of the 
 British sloop that they as members of the crew had 
 captured, that is, with the help of two other privateers 
 which came to their assistance. The court allowed the 
 claims of the rival vessels but denied mine. I had 
 counted upon that money but found myself suddenly 
 deprived of it. Now they are charging me with having 
 illegally bought up the lawsuit." 
 
 He was seated now and lay back in his chair with 
 his disabled limb propped upon a stool before him. 
 
 "They continue to say horrid things about you. I 
 wish you were done with them," Peggy remarked. 
 
 He removed his finely powdered periwig and ran 
 his heavy fingers through his dark hair. 
 
 "I treat such aspersions with the contempt their pet- 
 tiness deserves. I am still Military Governor of Phil- 
 adelphia and as such am beholden to no one save 
 Washington. The people have given me nothing and 
 I have nothing to return save bitter memories." 
 
 "I wish we were away from here!" she sighed. 
 
 "Margaret!" He never called her Peggy. He dis- 
 liked it. "Are you not happy in this home which I 
 have provided for you?" 
 
 His eyes opened full. 
 
 "It isn't that," she replied, "I am afraid of Reed." 
 
 "Reed? He is powerless. He is president of the
 
 i 9 4 THE LOYALIST 
 
 City Council which under English law is, in time of 
 peace, the superior governing body of the people. But 
 this is war, and he must take second place. I despise 
 him." 
 
 Peggy looked up inquiringly. 
 
 "Suppose that the worst should happen?" she said. 
 
 "But how what can happen?" he repeated. 
 
 "Some great calamity." 
 
 "How what do you mean?" he asked. 
 
 "If you should be removed, say, or transferred to 
 some less important post?" 
 
 A thought flashed into his mind. 
 
 "Further humiliated?" 
 
 "Yes. What then?" 
 
 "Why, I don't know. I had thought of no pos- 
 sible contingency. I wished for a command in the Navy 
 and wrote to Washington to that effect; but nothing 
 came of it. I suppose my increasing interest in domes- 
 tic affairs in the city, as well as my attentions to you, 
 caused me to discontinue the application. Then again, 
 I thought I was fitted for the kind of life led by my 
 friend Schuyler in New York and had hoped to obtain 
 a grant of land in the West where I might lead a re- 
 tired life as a good citizen." 
 
 "I would die in such a place. The Indians would 
 massacre us. Imagine me hunting buffalo in Ohio!" 
 
 Her face wore a sardonic smile. It was plain to be 
 seen that she was in a flippant mood. 
 
 "Have you given the matter a thought? Tell me," 
 he questioned. 
 
 "No ! I could not begin to think." 
 
 "Are you not happy?" 
 
 "Happiness springs not from a large fortune, and is 
 often obtained when often unexpected. It is neither
 
 THE LOYALIST 195 
 
 within us nor without us and only evident to us by the 
 deliverance from evil." 
 
 He glanced sharply. There was fire in his eye. 
 
 "I know of what you are thinking. You are dis- 
 turbed by these persistent rumors about me." 
 
 She gave a little laugh, a chuckle, in a hopeless man- 
 ner. 
 
 "Yes, I am. Go on." She answered mechanically 
 and fell back in her chair. 
 
 "You need not be disturbed. They are groundless, 
 I tell you. Simply engendered by spite. And I blame 
 partly the Papist Whigs. Damn 'em." 
 
 "It isn't that alone." 
 
 "That is some of it. The origin of the hostility to 
 me was the closing of the shops for a week under an 
 order direct from Washington himself, and a resolu- 
 tion of the Congress. Yet I was blamed. The next in- 
 cident pounced upon by them was my use of the govern- 
 ment wagons in moving stores. As you know I had 
 this done to revictual and supply the army. But I 
 permitted the empty wagons to bring back stores from 
 the direction of New York and was charged with being 
 in communication with the enemy." 
 
 "Which would be more praiseworthy." 
 
 He paid no attention to her remark but continued: 
 
 "I was honest in supposing the goods to be bona- 
 fide household goods belonging to non-combatants. As 
 a matter of fact some of the decorations at our wed- 
 ding were obtained in this manner. What followed? 
 A public complaint." 
 
 "I know." 
 
 "Then that scheming interloper Matlackl You 
 know of him?" 
 ' "I think so."
 
 i 9 <5 THE LOYALIST 
 
 "YouVe heard of his father, of course !" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "The Secretary to Reed, the President of the Coun- 
 cil? Timothy Matlack? His social aspirations were 
 somewhat curtailed by my interest in public affairs. He 
 has borne me in mind and evidently intends my ruin." 
 
 "In that he differs not from many other so-called 
 friends." 
 
 "I did all in my power to soothe his ruffled feelings 
 in a long, considerate letter in answer to his note of 
 grievance. Only later I learned that it was his son 
 whose haughty nature had been offended." 
 
 "You were no party to the offense. In fact you knew 
 naught of it until the episode had been concluded." 
 
 "True, but Franks had taken part in it, and Franks 
 was my head aide-de-camp. It was trivial. He wanted 
 a barber and sent young Matlack who was doing sentry 
 duty at the door to fetch one. Naturally I defended 
 his action in my letter of reply." 
 
 "I tell you, they do not want you here. Can't you 
 sense that? Else these charges would never have been 
 uttered. They are mere pretexts. They are weary of 
 you and desire your resignation." 
 
 She talked rapidly, violently. Her face assumed a 
 stern expression. 
 
 He did not reply but peered into the distance. 
 
 "The 'American Fabius', I suppose, is still watching 
 General Clinton," Peggy continued. 
 
 "He has thrown a cordon about him at New York. 
 With a sufficient force he might take him." 
 
 "Never! The Americans never were a match for 
 His Majesty's well-trained troops. The longer the 
 struggle endures the sooner this will be learned."
 
 THE LOYALIST 197 
 
 "Time is with us, dear. The mother country knows 
 this." 
 
 She looked at him. It was astonishing to her that he 
 could be so transparent and so unaware of it. Really 
 he was not clever. 
 
 "Why do you say that?" she asked. "Every day our 
 lot grows worse. The troops perish from misery; they 
 are badly armed; scarcely clothed; they need bread and 
 many of them are without arms. Our lands lie fallow. 
 The education of a generation has been neglected, a 
 loss that can never be repaired. Our youths have been 
 dragged by the thousands from their occupations and 
 harvested by the war; and those who return have lost 
 their vigor or have been mutilated for life." 
 
 "You are partly right," he mused. "America lost 
 the opportunity for reconciliation immediately after 
 my victory at Saratoga. Since then, as you say, the 
 land has become a waste of widows, beggars and or- 
 phans. Then came the French Alliance, a sacrifice of 
 the great interests, as well as the religion of this coun- 
 try to the biased views of a proud, ancient, crafty and 
 priest-ridden nation. I always thought this a defensive 
 war until the French joined in the combination. Now 
 I look with disfavor upon this peril to our dominion, 
 this enemy of our faith." 
 
 Peggy became interested immediately. She sat 
 straight up in her chair. 
 
 "You never spoke these thoughts to me before I" 
 she exclaimed. 
 
 "I feared it. You are a Tory, at least at heart. 
 And I knew that you would only encourage me in my 
 manner of thought. God knows, I am unable to decide 
 between my perplexities." 
 
 "You know how General Monk decided?"
 
 198 THE LOYALIST 
 
 "My God! He was a traitor!" 
 
 "He restored Charles," insisted Peggy. 
 
 "And sold his soul." 
 
 "For the Duchy of Albemarle." 
 
 "Good God ! girl, don't talk thoughts Jike that, I 
 
 I He has endured universal execration. It was 
 
 an act of perfidy." He scowled fiercely. He was in a 
 rage. 
 
 Peggy smiled. She did not press the subject, but 
 allowed it to drop. 
 
 "My! How dark it has become!" she exclaimed. 
 
 She struck a light and touched the wicks of the 
 candles. 
 
 Ill 
 
 Dizzy was the eminence to which General Arnold 
 and his girl bride ascended! On a sudden they found 
 themselves on the highest pinnacle the one of military 
 fame with Gates, Lee, Wayne, Greene and many 
 other distinguished generals at their feet, the other of 
 social prestige the observed of all observers ! For a 
 time Arnold's caprices had been looked upon as only 
 the flash and outbreak of that fiery mind which had 
 directed his military genius. He attacked religion; yet 
 in religious circles his name was mentioned with fond- 
 ness. He lampooned Congress; yet he was condoned 
 by the Whigs. 
 
 Then came the reaction. Society flew into a rage 
 with its idol. He had been worshiped with an irra- 
 tional idolatry. He was censured with an irrational 
 fury. In the first place the position in which he was 
 placed as Military Governor required the exercise of 
 the utmost patience and tact. Neither of these quali-
 
 THE LOYALIST 199 
 
 ties did he possess. The order to close the shops caused 
 discontent. People became incensed at the sight of a 
 dictator interfering with their private life. There was 
 thrust upon them in his person the very type that they 
 were striving to expel. His manner of action sud- 
 denly became obnoxious. 
 
 What was merely criticism in respect to his public 
 life, became a violent passion respecting the affairs of 
 his private life. There were many rumors of his inter- 
 course with the Tory element. Brilliant functions were 
 arranged, it was said, with the sole view of gaining 
 their friendship and good will. He spent the major 
 portion of his free time in their company, nay more, he 
 had taken to wife the most notorious of their number. 
 Small wonder was it that his sentiments on the ques- 
 tion of the war were undergoing a marked alteration. 
 The thirst of the political Whigs for vengeance was 
 insatiable. 
 
 Then he had repaired to a mansion, the most elegant 
 seat in Pennsylvania, where he entertained in a style 
 and after a manner far in excess of his means. A 
 coach and four he maintained with the greatest osten- 
 tation. His livery and appointments were extrava- 
 gant and wholly unbecoming an officer of a country so 
 poor and struggling. He drove to town in the com- 
 pany of his wife and paid every attention to the aris- 
 tocratic leaders of the city. He disdained the lot of 
 the common citizen. Even his head aide-de-camp had 
 submitted a free man to the indignity of fetching a 
 barber to shave him, an act countenanced by the Gen- 
 eral himself in a letter of reply to the boy's father. 
 
 His entertainments were frequent, altogether too 
 frequent for the conservative instincts of the commun- 
 ity. Upon the arrival of the French Ambassador M.
 
 200 THE LOYALIST 
 
 Gerard, a grand banquet was tendered him, after which 
 he was entertained with his entire suite for several 
 days at Mount Pleasant. Foreigners were seldom ab- 
 sent from the mansion and members of Congress, the 
 relatives of his wife, the titled gentry of Europe were 
 treated with marked and lavish attention. The visit, of 
 General Washington was an event memorable for its 
 display and magnificence, the ball alone at the City 
 Tavern entailing a vast expenditure. With Madeira 
 selling at eight hundred pounds a pipe and other things 
 in proportion to the depreciation of the paper cur- 
 rency, the wonder was often expressed as to the source 
 of so much munificence. 
 
 It was known that General Arnold was not a man 
 of wealth. Whatever fortune he had amassed had 
 been obtained mainly through the profits accrued from 
 his privateering ventures. The great estate which he 
 now possessed, had been bought only a few months 
 previous to his marriage out of the profits of one of 
 his vessels, just then returning to port. He was con- 
 tinually in debt, and ruin was imminent. Yet he was 
 living at the rate of five thousand pounds a year. 
 Whence then came the funds? 
 
 He had married a Tory wife, and presently it was 
 discovered that among his bosom friends, his table 
 companions, were to be found the enemies of America. 
 Rumors began to whisper with nods and shrugs and 
 shakings of the head that his wife was imparting profit- 
 able information to the enemy, and betimes the ques- 
 tion was raised as to who was profiting most. What 
 was more natural than that she who had been the 
 toasted and lauded favorite of the British Officers when 
 they were in possession of the city, should now be in 
 communication with them in far-away New York ! The
 
 THE LOYALIST 201 
 
 seeds of suspicion and ill-will were seditiously sown 
 and the yield was bound to be luxuriant. 
 
 So the days rolled into weeks, and the weeks clus- 
 tered into months, and the months fell into the proces- 
 sion of the seasons, and in the meantime, Arnold and 
 his wife passed their time in conjugal felicity and regal 
 splendor. Their affection was constant, tender and 
 uninterrupted; and this alone afforded him consolation 
 and happiness; for his countrymen were in a bad mood 
 with him. His wife, his home, his estate now defined 
 the extent of his ambition. The world had turned 
 against him.
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 A busier man in the city of Philadelphia during the 
 winter and spring season of '78 than John Anderson, 
 would have been hard to find. For weeks he had ap- 
 plied himself with relentless energy to the work before 
 him; for months he had deprived himself of the cus- 
 tomary rounds of pleasure in the interests of the seem- 
 ingly gigantic task allotted to him; until at length, for 
 the first time, he was enabled to appreciate to some 
 degree the results of his toil. It was now past Easter- 
 tide and the moments were hurrying faster and faster 
 in their haste towards the culmination of the conspiracy 
 that was forming little by little in the heart of the com- 
 munity like an abscess in the body of a sick man. 
 
 Progress had been made at New York although it 
 was acknowledged that the recruiting there had fallen 
 far short of all expectations. Still it was a much sim- 
 pler matter to effect the formation of such a regiment 
 where the work could be carried on openly and under 
 the protection of General Clinton; and where no sym- 
 pathizer of the colonists, however loyal, would dare to 
 enter a formal protest against the proceedings. It is 
 quite true that Catholics were divided there as else- 
 where; for not every one lent his spontaneous, com- 
 plete, and energetic adhesion to the cause of American 
 independence. And who would dare condemn their re- 
 straint; when the memory of the intolerable and bitter 
 
 202
 
 THE LOYALIST 203 
 
 practices of the early patriots was recalled? They 
 could not forget; and what was more, many did not 
 want to forget. 
 
 It was found impossible to gather in the city, now 
 held by the enemy, a thousand or more men sufficient 
 to compose a regiment. Hence it was necessary to 
 draw from the neighboring colonies. Anderson had 
 come to Philadelphia with this object in view and, as 
 an aid to his work, had established himself immedi- 
 ately in the graces of the military authorities. Quietly, 
 privately, secretly, he pursued his quest, seeking out 
 likely individuals whom he impressed into the service 
 of His Majesty with not so much as a scruple as to 
 means, fair or foul. Blackmail he employed freely and 
 the pressure of unpaid debts reaped for him a harvest 
 of names. 
 
 The currency was then worthless and the cost of 
 living enormous. He was the odd individual who 
 could boast of being free from debt, and the common 
 jail and the stocks in the market place at Second and 
 High Streets were tireless in meting out their punish- 
 ments to the delinquent debtors. Anderson took royal 
 advantage of this state of affairs, either by resolving 
 the debt in favor of an enlistment in the company or 
 by effecting a threatened punishment on the part of the 
 creditor unless his wishes were complied with. Many 
 recruits who otherwise would have rejected flatly the 
 base proposition, were secured by such means. 
 
 At length he had registered about an hundred 
 names, drawn from all classes of the city. The serv- 
 ices of Father Farmer had been sought as chaplain, 
 but this worthy servant of God gently but firmly de- 
 clined because of the weight of age and "several other 
 reasons." Colonel Clifton was still in charge of the
 
 204 THE LOYALIST 
 
 regiment but the other officers were to be Roman Cath- 
 olics and appointed by the colonels. A meeting for the 
 purpose of organization would be held in the Provin- 
 cial Hall in the course of a few weeks. Then the com- 
 pany would be shipped as soon as possible to New 
 York for incorporation in the regiment there. 
 
 Anderson found General Arnold a ready and effec- 
 tive instrument in the perfection of the plot. Not only 
 had the latter supplied him with all manner of infor- 
 mation, but his authority had been employed on more 
 than one occasion in the matter of impressment. What- 
 ever motives actuated the General were ascribed by 
 Anderson solely to his profound dislike of Catholics 
 and all things Catholic. A further incentive to the 
 success of the project was furnished by the issuance of 
 a pass by the Military Governor enabling a vessel to 
 leave the port of Philadelphia, where it had been tied 
 up, for New York, for the purpose of transporting to 
 that city the members of the recruited company. This 
 was, of course, a violation of the military code, but the 
 affair was done so secretly that it was known only to 
 Anderson and the Governor. The remote prepara- 
 tions were now completed. All was in readiness for 
 the meeting of the so-called volunteers. 
 
 Meanwhile, Marjorie had continued to be an object 
 of interest to the busy Anderson, and he had paid at- 
 tention to her with a marked gallantry. Through the- 
 late winter and early spring he had been a frequent 
 visitor at her home and had often escorted her in pub- 
 lic to the theater and dancing assemblies. He flattered 
 himself that her confidence had early been gained and 
 much information helpful to his scheme had been ob- 
 tained. He had played his part well, although on one 
 occasion, he had almost revealed himself; neverthe-
 
 THE LOYALIST 205 
 
 less he was completely satisfied that she not for a mo- 
 ment suspected the real purpose of his designs. 
 
 Now he felt obliged to hold one more conference 
 with the Military Governor, for it was required that 
 he know definitely the time set for the vessel's de- 
 parture. That was the sole obstacle to his plans, for 
 the date of the assembly depended upon the day of the 
 sailing of the transport. Arnold would know of its 
 readiness; its clearance was then a matter of personal 
 convenience. 
 
 And so, this fine afternoon in early May, he resolved 
 to direct his steps in the direction of Mount Pleasant 
 where he would complete his plans. It was a long walk 
 but less attention would be aroused by his going afoot, 
 and so he started early. Little did he suspect, how- 
 ever, that his every move was being observed and that 
 a pair of eyes had pursued him to the very park, watch- 
 ing him even as he ascended the great stone steps of the 
 mansion. 
 
 He lifted the brass knocker and gave two or three 
 slight taps, and even as he did so the blue eyes con- 
 tinued to observe him. 
 
 II 
 
 The dining-hall at Mount Pleasant was such as was 
 befitting the noble proportions of the mansion. It ad- 
 joined the hall in opposition to the great drawing- 
 room, its eastern side terminating in an ell extension 
 from the hall proper where a wide easy staircase with 
 a balustrade of gracefully turned spindles ascended to 
 the second floor. It was lighted, not only by the fire 
 that burned in the reredos at the northern wall, but 
 also by eight cresset-lamps and as many candles set in 
 huge silver candelabra on the center table.
 
 206 THE LOYALIST 
 
 Anderson was hungry from his long walk and ate 
 well. A great roast goose reposing in a huge silver 
 platter was brought in by the servants and set before 
 them. There were vegetables of every sort, jellies, 
 sweetmeats, floating islands, and a dessert of fruits, 
 raisins and almonds. Madeira was drunk freely by 
 all without any apparent disadvantage. 
 
 "And how were all at home?" asked Peggy when 
 they were seated. The conversation was on general 
 topics for the servants were coming in and out with 
 the food. 
 
 lt l saw only your sister when I called with Mar- 
 jorie. Mr. Shippen was away and Mrs. Shippen had 
 a cold, a very slight one I believe." 
 
 "She is susceptible to asthmatic attacks," observed 
 the General. 
 
 "Quite!" replied Anderson. 
 
 "She bears up remarkably. I think she has never 
 missed a function." 
 
 "Her will-power alone," replied Peggy. "She can 
 surmount obstacles; she has never lost an opportunity." 
 
 They lapsed into silence, occupying themselves with 
 the delicious repast. Sometimes they talked of this, 
 that and the other quite freely and easily of the so- 
 ciety news, of the presence of Miss Franks at the wed- 
 ding, of the splendor of it all. Indeed, there was noth- 
 ing to indicate more than a company of old-time 
 friends. 
 
 "I am ready to take my charges along with me," 
 announced Anderson at length. 
 
 "Hush! Not so loud," cautioned Arnold. "Later, 
 in the park, we shall treat of that." 
 
 Then the servants came again and removed the 
 dishes. After another goblet of Madeira they left the
 
 THE LOYALIST 207 
 
 table, going immediately out of doors, for it was now 
 dusk. 
 
 "I can do no more with the recruiting. I have in 
 round numbers, an hundred," Anderson began when 
 they had been seated in the cypress walk. The moon 
 was not yet half way to the zenith and lay a dull copper 
 color in the eastern sky, partially eclipsed by the chim- 
 ney of the great house. A solemn silence, terrifying 
 and rife with mysterious sensations, seemed to pervade 
 the place. It was a setting well fitted to shroud deep 
 and dark designs. No one would dare to venture 
 near. 
 
 "You have done well. Egad! I know of none 
 who could have done better." 
 
 "Yet it was no easy task, I assure you. They thrill 
 with the very spirit of rebellion. Cadwalader will 
 never forgive me, and will haunt me when he dies." 
 
 "You got him?" Arnold asked. 
 
 "I did. But I had to take proceedings against him 
 which portended the stocks. I promised him a wheel- 
 barrow to be pushed every day in the resolution of his 
 debt. Only when I had the jailer at hand did he re- 
 consider. The debt has been paid, and he has already 
 signed." 
 
 "I am glad you got him. He's a Papist, isn't he?" 
 inquired Peggy. 
 
 "He is, and a staunch one at that," replied her hus- 
 band. 
 
 "Let's get down to business," interrupted Anderson. 
 "How soon may your vessel sail?" 
 
 "This week, or the early part of next," replied Ar- 
 nold. "I drew the pass three weeks ago. With the 
 time for clearance and sailing allowed, she should be
 
 208 THE LOYALIST 
 
 ready now. You had better make an allowance of a 
 week." 
 
 "How about the crew?" 
 
 "They can be depended upon. They are beholden 
 to her owner. Have no fears concerning them." 
 
 "How soon may she clear?" 
 
 He was persistent in this. 
 
 "In a few days. Tomorrow if pressed." 
 
 "I want to get through with this business as soon as 
 I can and get out of this town. It may get too hot 
 for me. If I had that meeting off my mind and the 
 men on board bound for New York I would enjoy 
 greater repose." 
 
 "I thought you were never apprehensive," remarked 
 Peggy. "With your composure and gallantry the world 
 would judge that cares set lightly upon your head." 
 
 "Happy is he who can abandon everything with 
 which his conscience is burdened. I have enjoyed no 
 peace of soul for years and I see an untimely end." 
 
 "Be not so melancholy," observed Arnold. "My 
 boy, the future and the world lie before you." 
 
 "Like a yawning abyss," was the grave reply. 
 
 "Oh! spare us your terrible verdicts," cried Peggy 
 with a smile. 
 
 "I believe that I should have crushed with my scorn 
 the philosopher who first uttered this terrible but pro- 
 foundly true thought," said Anderson. " 'Prudence is 
 the first thing to forsake the wretched !' ' 
 
 "Have you been imprudent?" she asked. 
 
 "I did find a charm in my escapades. At first I 
 tingled with fear, but I gradually laid aside that cloak 
 of suspicion which guards safety, and stalked about 
 naked. A despicable contempt arises from an unre- 
 served intimacy. We grow bolder with our efforts."
 
 THE LOYALIST 209 
 
 "What is success?" asked Peggy. 
 
 Their mood was heavy; their tone morose. A sad- 
 ness had settled upon them like the blanket of the 
 night. Only the moon climbing into the heavens radi- 
 ated glory. 
 
 "Come! Away with those dismal topics!" exclaimed 
 the General. "This is the time for rejoicing." 
 
 "Can you rejoice?" inquired the visitor. 
 
 "I, too, should be happy, but I fear, alas, I am not. 
 My people give me no peace." 
 
 "Why not render your country a lasting service?" 
 
 "How?" 
 
 "By performing a heroic deed that will once for all 
 put an end to this unseemly conflict." 
 
 "Never! I have been shattered twice for my efforts. 
 I am done with active field duty." 
 
 "I do not think of that," Anderson assured him. 
 
 "Of what, then?" 
 
 "You know that the mother country had already 
 offered conciliation. The colonies shall have an Amer- 
 ican Parliament composed of two chambers; all the 
 members to be Americans by birth, and those of the 
 upper chamber to have the same title, the same rank, 
 as those of the House of Lords in England." 
 
 "What? A Marquis of Pennsylvania, a Duke of 
 Massachusetts Bay?" he laughed aloud at this. 
 
 "No less fitting than the Duke of Albemarle." 
 
 "Why do you mention him?" Arnold inquired im- 
 mediately. A thought flashed before his mind. Had 
 Peggy and this man conversed on that point? 
 
 "He simply came into my mind. Why?" 
 
 "Oh! Nothing. Continue." 
 
 "As I was saying, all laws, and especially tax laws, 
 shall be the work of this legislature, with the signature
 
 2io THE LOYALIST 
 
 of the Viceroy. They shall enjoy in every relation the 
 advantage of the best government. They shall, if neces- 
 sary, be supported by all the naval and military force 
 of England, without being exposed to the dangers or 
 subjected to the taxes from which such a military state 
 is inseparable." 
 
 "But how? What can I do that I have not already 
 done?" 
 
 "You have the courage, you have the ingenuity to 
 render that important service. Why allow your coun- 
 trymen to shed more blood when the enemy is willing 
 to grant all you are fighting for? You can save them 
 from anarchy. You can save them from the factions 
 of Congress." 
 
 "God knows how ardently I desire such a consum- 
 mation," breathed the Governor. 
 
 "I am confident that he would perform any act, how- 
 ever heroic or signal, to benefit the cause of his coun- 
 try," remarked Peggy with deliberate emphasis. 
 
 "Name it. What shall I do?" he asked. 
 
 "Act the part of General Monk in history," an- 
 nounced Anderson. 
 
 Arnold recoiled. He could not believe his ears. 
 Then the awful truth dawned upon him. 
 
 "Is this your work?" he turned to Peggy fiercely. 
 
 "On my honor, I never thought of it." His wife 
 was frightened at his sudden change of manner. 
 
 There was silence. The trio sat in thought, one 
 awaiting the other to speak the first word. 
 
 "Never," blurted Arnold. "Never, so long as I 
 wear this uniform." 
 
 "And yet the world resounds with his praises, for 
 he performed a disinterested and humane act." 
 
 "A treacherous and cowardly act!"
 
 THE LOYALIST 211 
 
 "Listen, I shall confide in you. If you would but 
 exert your influence in favor of an amicable adjustment 
 of the difficulties between the colonies and the mother 
 country, you might command ten thousand guineas and 
 the best post in the service of the government." 
 
 "Would that mean a peerage?" asked Peggy sud- 
 denly. 
 
 "Assuredly," was the reply. 
 
 She stood up and strutted in a pompous and stately 
 manner before them; then she turned and courtesied 
 before her husband. 
 
 "Your Grace, the carriage waits without. The 
 Duchess is already in waiting," she announced with a 
 sweeping gesture. 
 
 He scowled at her but did not answer. 
 
 "Clive saved the British Empire in India and you 
 can save the colonies," insisted Anderson. 
 
 "Would not a proud position at court, the comfort- 
 able income of a royal estate, the possession of a peer- 
 age on home soil more than reward a man as was the 
 case with General Monk?" challenged Peggy, with a 
 flash of sudden anger. 
 
 "And leave my country in its hour of need," he fin- 
 ished the sentence for her. 
 
 "Your country!" she taunted. "What has your 
 country done for you? The empty honors you have 
 gained were wrung from her. The battle scars you 
 bear with you were treated with ingratitude. You 
 were deprived of your due honors of command. Even 
 now you are attacked and hounded from every angle. 
 Your country! Pooh! A scornful mistress !" 
 
 She sat down and folded her arms, looking fiercely 
 into the dark. 
 
 It is strange how human nature could be touched by
 
 212 THE LOYALIST 
 
 so small affairs. The war of continents meant very 
 little to her imagination. Certainly the parallel was 
 not perfect; but it seemed to her to fit. 
 
 He looked around slowly. 
 
 "You took me for what I am," he said to her. "I 
 gave you prestige, wealth, happiness. But I have prom- 
 ised my life to my country if she requires it and I shall 
 never withdraw that promise while I live. Better the 
 grave of the meanest citizen than the mausoleum of 
 a traitor." 
 
 "But think of your country!" insisted Anderson. 
 
 "Anderson," was the reply, "I know the needs of 
 the country and I know deeply my own grievances. 
 Suppose I yield to your suggestions and Britain fails," 
 he paused as if to measure the consequences. "I 
 shall be doomed. I shall be called a bigot. My chil- 
 dren will hate me." 
 
 He seemed to waver. His earlier enthusiasm ap- 
 parently diminished before their attack. 
 
 "But," continued Anderson, "with your aid Britain 
 cannot fail. And remember how England rewards 
 those who render her great and signal services. Look 
 at the majestic column at Blenheim Palace reared to 
 the memory of John Churchill, Duke of Marlborough. 
 Contrast with it what Peggy has just said, the ingrati- 
 tude, the injustice, the meanness, with which Congress 
 has treated you." 
 
 "Must the end justify the means?" he mused. "Can 
 you continue to urge me to duplicate the treachery of 
 Churchill, who can never be forgiven for his treason? 
 Whatever else he may have achieved, you must re- 
 member he was first and last a traitor." 
 
 "He was doubly a traitor, if you are pleased to so 
 stigmatize him. He first betrayed his benefactor,
 
 THE LOYALIST 213 
 
 James, to ally himself with the Prince of Orange; and 
 then, on the pretext of remorse, broke faith with 
 William ; acted the part of a spy in his court and camp; 
 offered to corrupt his troops and lead them over to 
 James; and still all was forgotten in the real service 
 which he rendered to his country, and his name has 
 gone into history " 
 
 He was interrupted by a sharp sound, as if some 
 one had stepped upon a branch or a twig, causing it to 
 snap beneath his feet. On the instant, Anderson was 
 upon his feet, his hand feeling instinctively for his 
 revolver. 
 
 "We are betrayed," he whispered. "There is a spy 
 here." 
 
 All had arisen in silence and were peering into the 
 blackness of the night whence the sound apparently 
 came. Anderson thought he saw a figure emerge from 
 behind a tree far off in the distance and he immedi- 
 ately gave chase, opening fire as he did so. Several 
 times he fired into the dark space before him, for it 
 was bristling with shade, notwithstanding the obscure 
 light of the moon. As he covered the wide area be- 
 tween him and the river, the lithe form of a man 
 emerged from the wooded area and disappeared down 
 the incline which led to the water. Nearing the bank 
 he heard distinctly the splash of the body and he fired 
 again into the spot whence the noise arose. The 
 waters were still in commotion when he reached them, 
 but there was no one to be found; nothing save the 
 gentle undulation of the surface as it closed over its 
 burden, and gradually became placid under the soft 
 stillness of the night. After several minutes of intense 
 vigilance, he slowly retraced his steps.
 
 214 THE LOYALIST 
 
 in 
 
 "The river has swallowed him," he exclaimed as he 
 neared Arnold and Peggy, who were standing quite 
 motionless at the side of the settees. 
 
 "Who was it?" the General asked eagerly. 
 
 "I did not see him. He disappeared into the river. 
 I heard the splash of his dive and fired several times 
 in its direction, but saw no one." 
 
 "Did he swim it?" 
 
 "No ! I would have seen him. The water was un- 
 ruffled except for the disturbance caused by his dive. 
 The poor devil must have sunk to the bottom. Per- 
 haps one of my shots took effect." 
 
 "I don't like this," muttered Arnold. "I would not 
 have that conversation overheard for the crown of 
 England. An enemy was near. I hope to God he is 
 in the bottom of the river." 
 
 "Still, I may have hit him. I was no more than 
 fifty yards away." 
 
 "I shall have the bed dragged in the morning. I 
 could not rest without finding him. His identity must 
 be learned." 
 
 Leaving the settees, they set off in the direction of 
 the house, entering by the rear door. The servants 
 were already in alarm over the shooting and were 
 standing in a group behind the threshold motionless 
 with awe. Peggy paused to assure them of their safety, 
 narrating briefly the cause of the disturbance, together 
 with the probable fate of the spy. She rejoined her 
 husband and his guest in the drawing-room. 
 
 "I wonder who the intruder was?" Arnold mut- 
 tered. There was a look of worry and anxiety on his 
 face. His fingers nervously locked and interlocked,
 
 THE LOYALIST 215 
 
 and the next moment grasped his chin and rubbed his 
 cheek. He put his foot upon the stool and took it 
 down again. Then he sat forward in his chair. 
 
 "Reed is behind this," he ejaculated. "You will 
 find out that I am right. Reed has done this, or has 
 sent one of his lieutenants. Damn him ! He has 
 hounded me." 
 
 "I may have been tracked. Perhaps it was I who 
 was sought. My late movements might have created 
 suspicion, and it is possible that I was shadowed here." 
 
 "No, Anderson. No! It was not you they were 
 seeking. It is I, I tell you. Reed has been watching 
 me like a sharpshooter from the day I arrived. He 
 has been the author of the rumors which you have 
 heard about town, and he would risk his life to be 
 enabled to establish a serious charge against me. I am 
 sure of it. Reed is behind this; Reed and the City 
 Council." 
 
 "It was a nimble form " 
 
 "Did you say you thought you hit him?" he asked 
 nervously, seeking some source of comfort and assur- 
 ance. 
 
 "As I live, I hit him," Anderson promised him. 
 "Else I would have discovered him in the act of swim- 
 ming. He is in the bottom of the river." 
 
 "That's good, damn him. Ohl If it were but Reed 
 himself! He haunts me." 
 
 "He would not haunt you did you but remove your- 
 self from here," volunteered Peggy. 
 
 "I know it. I know it," he repeated. "But how 
 can I?" 
 
 "I suggested one avenue to you," proposed Ander- 
 son. 
 
 "Which?"
 
 216 THE LOYALIST 
 
 He awaited the answer. 
 
 "Via England." 
 
 His face glared with a livid red. He brought his 
 fist high above his head. 
 
 "By heavens !" he roared. "I won't hear that again. 
 I won't listen to it, I tell you. I'm afraid to do it. I 
 cannot do it. I cannot." 
 
 He shook his head as he slowly repeated the words. 
 
 "Pardon me," Anderson pleaded, "I intended no 
 harm. I apologize most sincerely for my impertinence. 
 It will not happen again, I assure you." 
 
 "That will do. Drop it at that." 
 
 "The vessel will be ready next week? The meet- 
 ing, then, can take place a week from Thursday." 
 
 "Undoubtedly." 
 
 "You will assure me of your interest?" 
 
 He was on the point of going. Though he had con- 
 quered, still, he did not know that he had conquered. 
 He believed, as he turned and faced his friend for the 
 last time in Mount Pleasant, that his mind was fully 
 made up and that he had decided for all time in favor 
 of the cause, at the sacrifice of himself. 
 
 "I shall do what I can," Arnold whispered, "but no 
 more." 
 
 He parted from them at the threshold.
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 "I have always contended, Griff, that a bigot and a 
 patriot are incompatible," remarked Stephen as he sat 
 on the side of his bed, and looked across the room 
 and out into the sunlit street beyond. 
 
 "Is that something you have just discovered?" an- 
 swered Sergeant Griffin without taking his eyes from 
 the newspaper before him. He was seated by the 
 window, musing the morning news, his curved pipe 
 hanging idle from his mouth, from which incipient 
 clouds of smoke lazily issued and as lazily climbed 
 upward and vanished through the open casement into 
 threads of nothingness. 
 
 "No," was the reply, "but I have come to the con- 
 clusion that the philosophy of religious prejudice can- 
 not be harmonized with true patriotism. They stand 
 against each other as night and day. The one neces- 
 sarily excludes the other." 
 
 "Do you know, Captain," the sergeant reasoned, 
 pointing towards Stephen with the stem of his pipe, 
 "a hard shell and a fool are somewhat alike; one won't 
 reason; the other can't." 
 
 "I guess you're right," Stephen laughed. "But love 
 of country and love of one's neighbor should be 
 synonymous. This I have found by actual experience 
 to be almost a truism." 
 
 He was idling about the room gathering wearing 
 
 217
 
 218 THE LOYALIST 
 
 apparel from the closets and drawers, pausing for a 
 moment to feel a pile of wet clothing that lay across 
 the back of a straight chair. 
 
 "You must have fallen overboard last night," ob- 
 served the sergeant. 
 
 "I didn't fall, Griff; I jumped." 
 
 "And let me tell you, Griff," Stephen continued, 
 "Arnold has become one of the most dangerous men 
 in the whole American Army." 
 
 He was dressing quietly. 
 
 "And you discovered that, too?" 
 
 "I am certain of it, now." 
 
 "That is more like it. I don't suppose you ever had 
 any doubts about it. Now you have the facts, eh?" 
 
 "I have some of them; not all. But I have enough 
 to court-martial him." 
 
 "And you got them last night?" 
 
 "I did." 
 
 "And got wet, too?" 
 
 "I almost got killed," was the grave response. 
 
 "How?" 
 
 "Anderson shot at me." 
 
 "Was he with you, also?" 
 
 "No. After me." 
 
 "Come, let us hear it. Where were you?" 
 
 "At Mount Pleasant." 
 
 "With Arnold and Anderson?" 
 
 "Yes. But they did not know it. I shadowed An- 
 derson to the house and lay concealed in the park. In 
 the evening they came into the park, that is, Arnold 
 and Peggy and Anderson." 
 
 "And they discovered you?" 
 
 "I think they did not. I was unfortunate enough to 
 break a branch beneath my foot. They heard it. Of
 
 THE LOYALIST 219 
 
 course, I was obliged to leave hurriedly, but Anderson 
 must have seen me running. The distance was too 
 great to allow him to recognize me. Then, again, I 
 was not in uniform." 
 
 "And he shot at you, I suppose." 
 
 "He did, but the shots went wide. I decided the 
 river was the safest course, so I headed for that and 
 dived in. I believe I was fortunate in attempting to 
 swim under water; this I did as long as I could hold 
 my breath. When I arose, I allowed myself to float 
 close to the shore along with the current until I had 
 moved far down the river. After that I lost all sight 
 of him." 
 
 He was now dressed in his military uniform and 
 looked little exhausted from his experience of the 
 night before, notwithstanding the fact that he had en- 
 joyed but a few hours' sleep. Still, it was past the hour 
 of ten, and he could tell from the appearance of the 
 street that the sun was already high in the heavens. 
 He went to the window and looked out at the citizens 
 hurrying to and fro about their several errands. From 
 an open window directly across the way resounded the 
 familiar strain of "Yankee Doodle" drawn from a 
 violin by a poor but extremely ambitious musician. He 
 stood for a minute to listen. 
 
 "There are a few of them in the colonies," he re- 
 marked. 
 
 "I would there were one less," was the reply. 
 
 Stephen turned from the window. 
 
 "We have some work ahead of us, Griff," he said 
 after a long pause. "The plot is about to sizzle. Are 
 you ready?" he asked. 
 
 "Of course. When do you want me?" 
 
 "I cannot tell you now. I have learned that the
 
 220 THE LOYALIST 
 
 work of recruiting is about finished and that the organ- 
 ization will take place some time next week. The com- 
 pany will leave the following day for New York on a 
 vessel for which Arnold has already issued a pass." 
 
 "Arnold?" 
 
 "Yes, Arnold," he repeated. "He has been in this 
 scheme from the start. Remember that note I told 
 you about? I have watched him carefully since then, 
 awaiting just such a move. I can have him court- 
 martialed for this." 
 
 "For this pass?" 
 
 "Certainly. That is a violation of Section Eighteen 
 of the Fifth Article of War." 
 
 The sergeant whistled. 
 
 "And I am going to this meeting." 
 
 "You are going?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "How?" 
 
 "That I do not know. But I shall find a way. They 
 have forced Jim Cadwalader into the company." 
 
 "Jim?" 
 
 "Yes. I learned that last night. Today I mean to 
 see Jim to learn the particulars. After that we shall 
 be in a position to decide further. You will be here 
 when I return?" 
 
 "Yes. I shall stay here." 
 
 "I won't go until late this afternoon. Until then 
 keep your eye open." 
 
 "Yes, sir," he replied, saluting. 
 
 II 
 
 Wlhen Stephen had presented himself that afternoon 
 at Jim Cadwalader's modest home, he had almost
 
 THE LOYALIST 221 
 
 persuaded himself that all would not be well. That 
 the members of the Catholic regiment, whom Ander- 
 son boasted had totaled nearly an hundred, could so 
 easily be dissuaded from their original purpose, he 
 thought highly improbable. He was well aware that 
 some of his co-religionists had been subject to British 
 official or personal influence; that other some were 
 vehemently opposed to the many outrages which had 
 been committed and condoned in the name of Liberty; 
 that others still were not unmindful of the spirit of 
 hostility displayed by the Colonists during the early 
 days, and had now refused for that reason to take sides 
 with their intolerant neighbors in their struggle for 
 Independence. Hence it was quite true that many 
 Catholics were loyal to the mother country, more 
 loyal, in fact, than they were to the principles of 
 American Independence and the land of their birth. 
 These, he feared, might have composed the bulk of the 
 recruits and these might be the less easily dissuaded. 
 On the other hand, he was satisfied that many who 
 were unwilling to barter their allegiance had been con- 
 strained to yield. If the complexion of the regiment 
 was of the latter variety, all would be well. His mis- 
 givings were not without foundation. 
 
 He knocked upon the small white door of Jim's 
 house and inquired of Mrs. Cadwalader if he might see 
 her husband. Jim was at the door even as he spoke, 
 and grasped his hand wacrmly, exchanging the greet- 
 ings of the day. He then led him to the chairs under 
 the great tree. 
 
 "I want to see you on a matter of great importance," 
 Stephen said with no further delay. "Tell me about 
 Mr. Anderson." 
 
 "I guess ther' ain't much t' tell," Jim replied.
 
 222 THE LOYALIST 
 
 "You have held conference with him?" 
 
 11 Twas him thet held it; not me." 
 
 "About the Regiment?" 
 
 "Aye!" 
 
 "Have you signed your name?" 
 
 "I hed t f ." 
 
 He was all in a fever, for his manner and his hesita- 
 tion indicated it. 
 
 "When do they meet?" 
 
 "Thursda' next." 
 
 "Are you sure?" 
 
 "Anderson hisself jest told me." 
 
 "He has been here already?" 
 
 "Ye-eh, this aft'rnoon." 
 
 He looked down upon the ground, considering. 
 
 "Where do they meet?" 
 
 "Th' basement o' th' Baptist Church." 
 
 "Tell me, Jim," Stephen asked quietly. "Why did 
 you enlist in that company?" 
 
 "I hed t', I told ye." 
 
 "Were you compelled to?" 
 
 "I was." 
 
 And then he told him of the number of debts which 
 beset him, and the starvation which was beginning to 
 prick him. He told of the first visit of Anderson and 
 his offer of four pounds to every volunteer in the new 
 regiment of Catholic soldiers. He declared that he 
 had refused absolutely to take part in any disloyal act, 
 however great might be the reward, and had said that 
 he preferred to starve until the colonists had obtained 
 their rights. He then told of Anderson's second visit, 
 during which he offered to relieve him of all financial 
 obligations on condition that he would sign with him; 
 which offer he again refused. And finally he related
 
 THE LOYALIST 223 
 
 how he was threatened with imprisonment for his in- 
 debtedness, and was actually served with the papers of 
 arrest and confinement in the stocks unless his signature 
 was given, and how he was at length obliged to yield 
 and sign over the allegiance. 
 
 Stephen listened intently throughout it all, oddly 
 studying the face of his companion, reading into his 
 very soul as he spoke. He was satisfied now with 
 Cadwalader's story. 
 
 "Jim," he said at length. "You do not want to join 
 this regiment?" 
 
 "No, sir !" he exclaimed aloud. "Not a bit uv it." 
 
 "If I promise to assist you to escape from this man, 
 will you lend me your help?" 
 
 "Will I? Enythin'y' ask, sir." 
 
 His eyes brightened with manifest ardor. 
 
 "I want to go to that meeting, and I want you to let 
 me take your place." 
 
 "Sure, y' ken." 
 
 "And I want to borrow your clothes." 
 
 "I ain't got much," observed Jim, extending his 
 hands and looking down at his clothing, "but what I 
 hev, is yours." 
 
 "And I want you to be in the vicinity of the building 
 to join in any agitation which may result against Mr. 
 Anderson." 
 
 "I'll do thet, too." 
 
 "Of course, if we fail it may go hard with us. A 
 crowd is an uncertain element to deal with, you realize. 
 But it is our only chance. Will you take it?" 
 
 "O* course, I'll take it. I'll do enythin' y' say, eny- 
 thin'." 
 
 "And Jim! You know of many so-called members 
 of that company who have been impressed in a manner
 
 224 THE LOYALIST 
 
 similar to yours and who, very likely, are of the same 
 state of mind as you." 
 
 "I know meny, sir." 
 
 "Very good! Can you not move among them and 
 acquaint them secretly with what I have just told you? 
 Secure their cooperation for me so that, when the mo- 
 ment comes, I may depend upon them for support. 
 Urge them, too, to join in whatever demonstration 
 may be made against the project." 
 
 "I'll do thet, sir, and y' may depend 'n me fur it." 
 
 "You say Thursday night? Keep me informed of 
 any further developments. At any rate, I shall see 
 you before then. Remember, however," he cautioned, 
 "what I have just confided to you must be kept with 
 the utmost secrecy." 
 
 He raised his hand high above his head and stood 
 up. 
 
 "I hope t' God I die " 
 
 "Never mind swearing," interrupted Stephen, pull- 
 ing him back again into his chair. "Simply be on your 
 guard, that is all." 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 "You are right to come back," he said; "you should 
 have persevered in your resistance." 
 
 "I couldn't help it, could I? I was made t'." 
 
 "We become vigorous under persecution," answered 
 Stephen. 
 
 "I'm sorry." 
 
 "Well then tell me. Do you know aught of this 
 Mr. Anderson?" 
 
 He stared at him with a questioning look. He was 
 completely bewildered. 
 
 "Thet I don't. Why? What what could I 
 know?"
 
 THE LOYALIST 225 
 
 "I mean do you know who he is?" 
 
 He sat up. 
 
 "Why, I never thought o' him. He seem'd c'rrect 
 'nough, I thought. Marj'rie brought 'im here, I 
 think." 
 
 Stephen set his teeth. 
 
 "Marjorie?" he repeated. "Are you sure of that?" 
 
 "I am, sir." 
 
 "When was this?" 
 
 "It's a good time now. I jest can't r'member." 
 
 "Did she know of his purpose?" 
 
 He paused as if he would say more, but dared not. 
 
 "Thet I can't say. If I r'member c'rrectly she kept 
 herself wid th' old lady." 
 
 "How often did she accompany him?" 
 
 "Just thet once." 
 
 "You mean she simply made you acquainted with 
 him?" 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 A light began to glimmer in Stephen's mind, and 
 gradually the truth began to dawn upon him. 
 
 "In her presence, I presume, the conversation was 
 more or less general. He alluded to the scheme which 
 was uppermost in his mind only secretly with you?" 
 
 "Thet wuz all, sir." 
 
 He knew well enough now what his friend meant, 
 though nothing of the details, and from the uncertainty 
 and the apprehension of his manner he judged that 
 there was much of which he was still in the dark. 
 Anderson had come to Jim with the girl to secure an 
 advantageous introduction; after that he had no imme- 
 diate need of her company. He was of the opinion 
 that she was entirely ignorant of the man's character 
 and motives, although she was unwittingly an impor-
 
 226 THE LOYALIST 
 
 tant instrument in his hands. Stephen longed to reveal 
 the truth of the situation to her, but dared not; at any 
 rate, thought he, not until the proper time came. Then 
 she would be enabled to appreciate for herself the 
 trend of the whole affair. 
 
 "Can I ask ye," inquired Jim in a voic'e.that indi- 
 cated timidity, "will this affair I mean, d'ye s'pose 
 this thing '11 bring us t' eny harm, 'r thet they'll be a 
 disorder?" 
 
 Stephen's eyes danced with excitement. 
 
 "Do they observe the courtesies of the law? If it 
 comes to the worst, yes, there will be a scene and the 
 grandest scene in which a villain ever participated." 
 
 Marjorie entering through the gate posts immedi- 
 ately commanded their attention. 
 
 Ill 
 
 "I should be happy to be permitted to accompany 
 you home," Stephen whispered to her at a moment 
 when they chanced to be alone. 
 
 "I should be happy to have you," was the soft re- 
 sponse. 
 
 "You look well," she said to him after they had 
 made their adieus to the Cadwaladers and begun their 
 walk together down the street. 
 
 Her eyes twinkled, and a pretty smile stole across 
 her face. 
 
 "I am as tired as I can be. I have endured some 
 trying experiences." 
 
 "Can you not leave here and take a rest? I fear 
 that you will overtax yourself."
 
 THE LOYALIST 227 
 
 He turned and looked seriously at her. 
 
 "Honestly?" he asked. 
 
 "Yes. I mean it. Do you know that I have allowed 
 no day to pass without praying for you?" 
 
 "To know that, and to hear you say it is worth a 
 series of adventures. But, really, I could not think of 
 leaving here now; not for another fortnight at least. 
 The moments are too critical." 
 
 "Are you still engaged in that pressing business?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "For your success in that I have also prayed." 
 
 She was constant after all, he thought. Still he 
 wondered if she could be sincere in her protestations, 
 and at the same time remain true to Anderson. For 
 he really believed that she had been deceived by his 
 apparent infatuation. 
 
 "I suppose you know that Jim has been ensnared?" 
 he asked suddenly. 
 
 "Jim? No ... I, What has happened?" 
 
 She was genuinely surprised. 
 
 "He has enlisted in the regiment." 
 
 "Has he forsworn?" 
 
 "Not yet. But he has signed the papers of enlist- 
 ment." 
 
 "I am sorry, very sorry." Then after a pause: "It 
 was I who brought Anderson to Jim's house, you 
 know." 
 
 "Yes. I know." 
 
 "But I must confess that I did not know the nature 
 of his errand. I, myself, was seeking an advantage." 
 
 "No matter. It may eventually redound to our 
 credit." 
 
 "I regret exceedingly of having been the occasion of 
 Jim's misfortune."
 
 228 THE LOYALIST 
 
 Her eyes were cast down, her head bent forward as 
 she walked in what one might characterize a medita- 
 tive mood. 
 
 "I, too, am sorry. But there are others." 
 
 "Many?" 
 
 "That I do not know. Later I shall tell you." 
 
 "And why not now?" 
 
 "I cannot." 
 
 It was a troublesome situation in which the two 
 found themselves. Here were two souls who loved 
 each other greatly, yet without being able to arrive at 
 a mutual understanding on the subject. They were 
 separated by a filmy veil. The girl, naturally frank 
 and unreserved, was intimidated by the restrained and 
 melancholy mien of her companion. Yet she felt con- 
 strained to speak lest deception might be charged 
 against her. Stephen, troubled in his own mind over 
 the supposed unfavorable condition of affairs, skeptical 
 of the affections of his erstwhile confidante, felt, too, a 
 like necessity to be open and explain all. 
 
 So they walked for a time, he thinking, and she 
 waiting for him to speak. 
 
 "For two reasons I cannot tell you," he went on. 
 "First, the nature of the work is so obscure and so 
 incomplete that I could give you no logical nor con- 
 cise account of what I am doing. As a matter of fact, 
 I, myself, am still wandering in a sort of maze. The 
 other reason is that I have taken the greatest care to 
 say no word in any way derogatory to the character of 
 Mr. Anderson." 
 
 "You wouldn't do that." 
 
 "That's just it. I should not want to be the cause 
 of your forming an opinion one way or the other con-
 
 THE LOYALIST 229 
 
 earning him. I would much prefer you to discover 
 and to decide for yourself." 
 
 "That is charity." 
 
 "Perhaps!" 
 
 "And tact." 
 
 She peeped at him, her lips parted in a merry smile. 
 Evidently she was in a flippant mood. 
 
 "It would be most unfair to him were I to establish 
 a prejudice in your mind against him." 
 
 "Yet you have already disapproved of my friend- 
 ship with him." 
 
 "I have, as I already have told you." 
 
 "Yet you have never told me the reason," she re- 
 minded him. 
 
 "I cannot." 
 
 He shook his head. 
 
 For he would not wound her feelings for the world; 
 and still it pained him to be compelled to leave her in a 
 state bordering on perplexity, not to say bewilderment, 
 as a result of his strange silence. A delicate subject 
 requires, a deft hand, and he sensed only too keenly 
 his impotency in this respect. He, therefore, thought 
 it best to avoid as much as possible any attempts at 
 explanation, at least for the present. 
 
 Furthermore, he was entirely ignorant of her opin- 
 ion of Anderson. Of course, he would have given 
 worlds to know this. But there seemed no reasonable 
 hope that that craving would be satisfied. He was per- 
 suaded that the man had made a most favorable im- 
 pression upon her, and if that were true, he knew that 
 it were fruitless to continue further, for impressions 
 once made are not easily obliterated. Poor girl! he 
 thought. She had seen only his best side; just that 
 amount of good in a bad man that makes him danger-
 
 230 THE LOYALIST 
 
 ous, just that amount of interest which often makes 
 the cleverest person of a dullard. 
 
 Hence she was still an enigma. As far as he was 
 concerned, however, there had been little or no varia- 
 tion in his attachment to her. She was ever the same 
 interesting, lovely, tender, noble being; complete in her 
 own virtues, indispensable to his own happiness. Per- 
 haps he had been mistaken in his analysis of her; but 
 no, very likely she did care for the other man, or at 
 any rate was beginning to find herself in that unfortu- 
 nate state fortunate, indeed, for Anderson, but un- 
 fortunate for him. 
 
 For this reason, more than for any other, he had 
 desisted-from saying anything that might have lessened 
 Anderson in her regard. It would be most unfair to 
 interfere with her freedom of choice. When the facts 
 of the case were revealed in all their fullness, he felt 
 certain that she would repent of her infatuation, if he 
 might be permitted to so term her condition. It 
 seemed best to him to await developments before fur- 
 ther pressing his suit. 
 
 "Stephen," she said at length. "What are you 
 thinking of me?" 
 
 "I Why? That is a sudden question. Do you 
 mean complimentary or critical?" 
 
 "I mean this. Have you misjudged my relations 
 with John Anderson?" 
 
 "I have thought in my mind " he began, and 
 
 stopped. 
 
 Marjorie started. The voice was quiet enough but 
 significant in tone. 
 
 "Please tell me," she pleaded. "I must know." 
 
 "Well, I have thought that you have been unusually 
 attentive to him."
 
 THE LOYALIST 231 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "And that, perhaps, you do care for him, just a 
 little." 
 
 There ! It was out. She had guessed aright. 
 
 "I thought as much," she said quietly. 
 
 "Then why did you ask me?" 
 
 "Listen," she began. "Do you recall the night you 
 asked me to be of some service to you?" 
 
 "Perfectly." 
 
 "I have thought over that subject long and often. 
 I wondered wherein that service could lie. During the 
 night of Peggy's affair it dawned upon me that this 
 stranger to whom I was presented, might be more art- 
 ful than honest. I decided to form his acquaintance 
 so that I might learn his identity, together with his 
 mission in the city. I cherished the ambition of draw- 
 ing certain information from him; and this I felt could 
 be accomplished only by an assumed intimacy with 
 him." 
 
 Stephen stopped suddenly. His whole person was 
 tense and magnetic as he stared at her. 
 
 "Marjoriel" he exclaimed. "Do you mean it?" 
 
 "Truly. I read his character from the first. His 
 critical attitude displeased me. But I had to pretend. 
 I had to." 
 
 "Please ! Please forgive me." He turned and 
 seized suddenly both her hands. "I thought, I 
 thought, I cannot say it. Won't you forgive me?" 
 
 Her eyes dropped. She freed her hands. 
 
 "Then I tricked you as well," she exclaimed with a 
 laugh. 
 
 "And you mean it? I am made very happy today, 
 happier than words can express. What loyalty ! You
 
 232 THE LOYALIST 
 
 have been helping me all the time and I never knew it. 
 Why did you not tell me this before?" 
 
 "You never gave me leave. I wanted to talk to you 
 so much, and you seemed to forbid me. ... I prayed 
 for an opportunity, and none came." 
 
 "I am very sorry." 
 
 "Anderson interested me only in this, he came into 
 our society for a very definite purpose, the nature of 
 which I was most desirous of learning. I know now 
 that he is not of our faith, although he pretends to be. 
 He is not of French extraction, yet he would lead one 
 to assume that he was. He is a British officer and 
 actively engaged in the service of the enemy. At pres- 
 ent the recruiting of the proposed regiment of Catholic 
 Volunteers for service with the enemy is his immediate 
 work. He hopes to find many displeased and disloyal 
 members of our kind. Them he would incorporate 
 into a company of deserters." 
 
 "You have learned that from him?" 
 
 "Aye ! And more. General Arnold has been in- 
 itiated into the scheme. I do not know what to think 
 except that he has yielded to some influence. His an- 
 tipathy toward us would require none, nevertheless I 
 feel that some undue pressure has been brought to bear 
 upon him." 
 
 "Anderson ?V he asked. 
 
 "I do not know. At any rate he will bear watching. 
 I think he is about to ask for a more important com- 
 mand." 
 
 Stephen then told her of his adventures, relating to 
 her wholly and candidly the details of his suspicions, 
 together with his plan for the future. Throughout it 
 all she listened with attention, so much interested that 
 she was scarce aware that they were crossing the wide
 
 THE LOYALIST 233 
 
 road before her own home. Her eyes had been about 
 her everywhere as they walked, yet they had failed to 
 perceive anything. 
 
 "Won't you come in?" she asked. "You are almost 
 a stranger here now." 
 
 "I would like to more than I can tell you ; but truly 
 I have business before me which is pressing. Pardon 
 me just once more, please." 
 
 "Mother would be pleased to see you, you know," 
 she insisted. 
 
 "I should like, indeed, to see your mother. I shall 
 stop to see her, just to inquire for her." 
 
 "Will you come when this terrible business is com- 
 pleted?" 
 
 "Gladly. Let us say, next week. Perhaps you 
 might be pleased to come canoeing with me for the 
 space of an afternoon?" 
 
 "I should be delighted. Next week?" 
 
 "Yes. Next week. I shall let you know." 
 
 "Here is mother, now." 
 
 He went in and shook her head, inquiring diligently 
 concerning her. 
 
 IV 
 
 As Stephen walked away from the home of his be- 
 loved, ruminating over the strange disclosures of the 
 day and how satisfactory and gratifying they were to 
 him, his state of mind was such that he was eager for 
 the completion of the more serious business that was 
 impending so that he might return to her who had 
 flooded his soul with new and sudden delight. Never 
 was he more buoyant or cheerful. He was cheerful, 
 notwithstanding his remorse.
 
 234 THE LOYALIST 
 
 For he did chide himself over his absurd stupidity. 
 He should have known her better than to have enter- 
 tained, for even a passing moment, a thought of her 
 inconstancy, and that he should have so misjudged her, 
 her whom he himself would have selected from 
 among his host of acquaintances as the one best fitted 
 for the office assumed, disturbed him not a little. 
 His own unworthiness filled him with shame. Why 
 did he question her? 
 
 And yet he would have given his own life to make 
 her happy, he who was quietly allowing her to vanish 
 out of it. He tried to explain his fallacy. First 
 of all, the trend of circumstances was decidedly against 
 him. There was his arrest and subsequent trial, days 
 when he had longed to be at her side to pursue the 
 advantages already gained. Then there were the days 
 of his absence from town, the long solid weeks spent in 
 trailing Anderson, and in meeting those who had been 
 approached by him in the matter of the recruiting. It 
 was well nigh impossible, during this time, to_seize a 
 moment for pleasure, precious moments during which 
 Anderson, as he thought, had been making favorable 
 progress both with his suit and with his sinister work. 
 If Marjorie had forgotten him quite, Stephen knew 
 that he alone was responsible. Him she had seen but 
 seldom; Anderson was ever at her side. No girl 
 should be put to this test. It was too exacting. 
 
 Despite his appreciation of these facts, his soul had 
 been seized with a very great anguish over the thought 
 of his lost prize; and if he had failed to conceal his 
 feelings in her presence, it was due to the fact that his 
 sensitive nature was not equal to the strain imposed 
 upon it. Who can imagine the great joy that now 
 filled his heart to overflowing as a result of his con-
 
 THE LOYALIST 235 
 
 versation today, when he learned from her own lips 
 that throughout it all she had been steadfast and true 
 to him alone? His great regard for her was increased 
 immeasurably. Her character had been put to the test, 
 and she had emerged more beautiful, more radiant, 
 more steadfast than before. 
 
 This new analysis led him to a very clear decision. 
 First of all he would defeat the cunning Anderson at 
 his own game; then he would rescue his countrymen 
 from their unfortunate and precarious condition; and, 
 finally, he would return to Marjorie to claim his re- 
 ward. Altogether he had spent an advantageous and a 
 delightful afternoon. He was ready to enter the meet- 
 ing house with renewed energy.
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 The hall was very ordinary within. Small in pro- 
 portion to its great high ceiling, bleak in its white- 
 washed walls and scantily covered floor, oppressive 
 from its damp, stifling air and poor ventilation, it gave 
 every indication of the state of disuse into which it had 
 fallen. It was no more than an anteroom to the vestry 
 of the church, though quite detached from it, yet one 
 could almost feel through the stout south wall the im- 
 penetrable weight of darkness which had settled down 
 within the great building beyond. The gloomy 
 shadows had penetrated here, too, for although the 
 antechamber contained a half dozen windows, they 
 were shuttered and barred against every hue of twi- 
 light from the outside. The very atmosphere was in- 
 dicative of the sinister nature of the business at hand. 
 
 To the front of the room a sma|l platform stood 
 surmounted by a table, surrounded by chairs. Several 
 men occupied these, interested in a conversation, some- 
 what subdued in its tone and manner. The chairs, 
 settees, and benches throughout the rest of the room, 
 were being filled by the so-called volunteers, who en- 
 tered and took their places with an air of wonder and 
 indecision. Already two-thirds of the seats were taken, 
 and every face turned and re-turned to the door at 
 every footfall. 
 
 The small door to the side was, of course, barred; 
 
 236
 
 THE LOYALIST 237 
 
 but, in response to the slightest knock, it was opened 
 by an attendant, assigned for that purpose. Names 
 were asked and the cards of admission were collected 
 with a certain formality before the aspirant gained 
 admittance. There was no introduction, no hurry, no 
 excitement. 
 
 "What's your name?" the man at the door was 
 heard to say to one who already had tapped for ad- 
 mittance. 
 
 "Cadwalader," was the reply. "James Cadwala- 
 der." 
 
 "Got your card?" 
 
 There was no response, only the production of a 
 small white card. 
 
 A strong, athletic individual, clad in a checked shirt 
 and a red flannel jacket, a leathern apron, and a pair 
 of yellow buckskin breeches, entered and stood for a 
 moment looking about the hall. His eyes fell upon 
 the group gathered around the table at the forward 
 end of the room. Two of them he recognized, Col- 
 onel Clifton and John Anderson, the latter with his 
 back to the audience. There were many familiar faces 
 in the chairs throughout the room, some of whom had 
 expected him, and accordingly gave him a slight recog- 
 nition. Slowly, and in a manifestly indifferent manner, 
 he made his way to the front of the chairs where he 
 seated himself, and listened sharply to the little group 
 conversing upon the platform until he had satisfied 
 himself that there was nothing of importance under 
 discussion. 
 
 The room was filling rapidly. It was one of those 
 mixed assemblies wherein one could discern many 
 states of mind written upon the faces of those present. 
 Some wore the appearance of contentment and com-
 
 2 3 8 THE LOYALIST 
 
 posure; some laughed and talked in a purely disinter- 
 ested and indifferent manner; others looked the picture 
 of unrest and dissatisfaction, and wore a scowl of dis- 
 appointment and defeat. These latter Stephen recog- 
 nized at once and hurriedly made an estimate of their 
 number. Together with the neutral representation he 
 seemed satisfied with the majority. 
 
 The most remarkable feature of all was the silence. 
 Not a voice was raised above a whisper. The man at 
 the door at the side of the hall, the little group away 
 to the front of the hall, peeping at the audience and 
 talking in subdued tones, the people in the chairs, those 
 at the back of the hall, all seemed to hold their 
 tongues to a whisper for interest and a kind of fear. 
 Drama was in the air. 
 
 The guard at the door advanced to the front of the 
 hall to announce to Mr. Anderson that the full quota 
 was present. Whereupon the latter arose from his 
 chair and swept with his gaze the entire room, which 
 the dim light of the torches only partly revealed. 
 Satisfied with his scrutiny, he turned and again con- 
 ferred with his associates who nodded their heads 
 in acceptance of his suggestion. They sat back in their 
 chairs while he came to the center of the platform and 
 awaited the cessation of the hum which was now be- 
 coming audible. 
 
 "Let me begin by taking further assurance of your 
 number," he said, "for which purpose I shall call the 
 roll of names to which I respectfully ask you to 
 respond." 
 
 Then followed the reading of the roll-call to which 
 each man at the mention of his name signified his pres- 
 ence in the room. Stephen's heart fluttered as he re- 
 plied boldly to the name of "James Cadwalader."
 
 THE LOYALIST 239 
 
 There were eight names to which no reply was 
 given. These very likely would come later, or perhaps 
 they had reconsidered their action and had decided not 
 to come at all. Those present numbered eighty-six, 
 Stephen learned from the count. 
 
 "I shall take this opportunity of distributing among 
 you the papers of enlistment that you may read the 
 terms of agreement, and these I shall ask you to sign 
 at the close of this meeting." 
 
 As Anderson finished this sentence, he passed to 
 several aids, a bundle of papers which they promptly 
 dealt out to the members of the proposed company. 
 
 Then Mr. Anderson began. 
 
 II 
 
 "You have assembled this evening, my dear friends 
 and co-religionists, to translate into definite action the 
 convictions by which you have been impelled to under- 
 take this important business. Our presence means that 
 we are ready to put into deeds the inspirations which 
 have always dominated our minds. It means that we 
 are about to make a final thrust for our religious con- 
 victions, and to prove that we are worthy descendants 
 of the men who established in this land freedom of 
 religious worship, and bequeathed it to us as a priceless 
 heritage." 
 
 This Anderson is a clever fellow, thought Stephen, 
 and a fluent talker. Already his eloquence had brought 
 quiet to the room and caused those who were fumbling 
 with the papers to let them fall motionless in their 
 laps. But what a knave! Here he was deliberately 
 playing upon the sympathies of his audience in the role 
 of a Catholic.
 
 240 THE LOYALIST 
 
 "We have signified our intention of taking this mo- 
 mentous step, because we are of the undivided opinion 
 that our rights have been attained. We have accom- 
 plished our purpose and we have now no cause for 
 martial strife. No longer do grounds of contention 
 between us and the mother country exist. Our bill of 
 rights has been read abroad and honored, and over- 
 tures of conciliation have already been made. The 
 object for which we linked our forces with the rebel 
 standard, the happiness, the supreme happiness of our 
 country, has been gained. We no longer desire open 
 warfare. 
 
 "The idea of an American Parliament, with its 
 members of American birth, is a welcome one. It is a 
 fitting, a worthy ambition. We are confident that we 
 are capable, at this juncture, of enacting our own laws 
 and of giving them the proper sanction. We are ca- 
 pable of raising our own taxes. We are worthy of con- 
 ducting our own commerce in every part of the civil- 
 ized globe as free citizens of the British Empire. And 
 we are convinced that we should enjoy for this pur- 
 pose the blessings of good government, not necessarily 
 self-government, and that we should be sustained by 
 all the power requisite to uphold it, as befits free and 
 independent children bonded together in a concert of 
 purpose. 
 
 "This we desire. But we seek also that freedom in 
 matters of religious worship without which no nation 
 can attain to any degree of greatness. Under a gov- 
 ernment conducted solely and independently by the 
 colonists we know that such a consummation would be 
 impossible. I need not remind you of the deplorable 
 state of affairs which obtained previous to the opening 
 of hostilities. I need not recall to your minds the anti-
 
 THE LOYALIST 241 
 
 Catholic declarations of the Continental Congresses. 
 I need not recall to you the machinations of John Jay, 
 or the manifest antipathy of the Adamses, or the 
 Hamiltons, or the Paines. I need not recall to you 
 how the vaunted defenders of American liberties and 
 freedom expressed their supreme detestation of Cath- 
 olics and all things Catholic, and how they were deter- 
 mined that the nightmare of Popery would never hold 
 sway over these free and independent colonies as it 
 does even now in Canada. I need not recall how the 
 colonies, with the sole exception of this colony of 
 Pennsylvania, debarred the free and legitimate exer- 
 cise of your religion within their bounds, and restricted 
 its public ceremonies; how you were restricted by 
 oaths required by law, even here in Pennsylvania, 
 which you could not take had you been so successful as 
 to be chosen to office. I need not remind you of these 
 truths. You already know them. It would be idle 
 to repeat them." 
 
 "This man is exceedingly dangerous," muttered Ste- 
 phen, "and exceedingly well-informed." He jotted 
 down several notes on the reverse of his paper. 
 
 "We have been displeased with the conduct of the 
 war, immeasurably so. And we have lost all faith in 
 the good will of our fellow-colonists, in matters relig- 
 ious as well as in matters political. They have refused 
 to treat with the ministers of conciliation. We are 
 about to join our forces to those of the mother coun- 
 try in order that we may render our own poverty- 
 stricken land an everlasting service. We are destined 
 to take our places among a band of true and genuine 
 patriots, who have, above all things else, the welfare 
 of their own land at heart, and we are about to com- 
 mit ourselves to this course, together with our fortunes
 
 242 THE LOYALIST 
 
 and our lives. Since our people are blinded by the 
 avarice and the prejudice of their leaders, we shall take 
 into our own hands the decision and the fortunes of this 
 war, trusting that our cause may be heard at the bar 
 of history when strict judgment shall be meted out. 
 We have broken with our people in the hope that the 
 dawn of better days may break through the clouds that 
 now overshadow us." 
 
 He paused, for a moment to study the temper of 
 his audience. There was no sound, and so he con- 
 tinued. 
 
 "It is the glory of the British soldier that he is the 
 defender, not the destroyer, of the civil and the relig- 
 ious rights of the people. Witness the tolerant care of 
 your mother country in the bestowal of religious liber- 
 ties to the inhabitants of our once oppressed neighbor, 
 Canada. The Quebec Act was the greatest concession 
 ever granted in the history of the British Parliament, 
 and it secured for the Canadians the freedom of that 
 worship so dear and so precious to them. So great 
 was the tolerance granted to the Catholics of the 
 North, that your fellow-colonists flew to arms lest a 
 similar concession be made here. It was the last straw 
 that broke the bonds of unity. For, henceforth, it was 
 decreed that only a complete and independent separa- 
 tion from the British Parliament could secure to the 
 people the practice of the Protestant faith. 
 
 "Now we come to the real purpose of this organiza- 
 tion. We are about to pledge ourselves to the restora- 
 tion of our faith through the ultimate triumph of the 
 British arms. Nobody outside of America believes 
 that she can ever make good her claims of independ- 
 ence. No one has ever taken seriously her attempt at 
 self-government. France, alone, actuated by that an-
 
 THE LOYALIST 243 
 
 cient hatred for England, inspired by the lust of con- 
 quest and the greed of spoliation, has sent her ships to 
 our aid. But has she furnished the Colonies with a 
 superior force of arms? Has she rendered herself 
 liable for any indebtedness? Your mother country 
 alone has made this benign offer to you, and it is to her 
 alone that you can look and be assured of any recon- 
 ciliation and peace. 
 
 "Victory, once assured, will establish peace and 
 everksting happiness. Victory, now made possible 
 only by the force of arms, will assure us toleration in 
 religious matters. And why not? This fratWidal 
 strife should not occasion any personal hatred/Kng- 
 land is not our foe, but our mother in arms Against 
 whom we have conceived an unjust grievance. Let us 
 lay aside our guns for the olive. Since our fellow- 
 citizens will not accept just terms of conciliation let us 
 compel them to do so by the strength of our arms. 
 
 "Tomorrow we embark for New York at the place 
 of landing indicated on the papers of enlistment. There 
 we shall be incorporated into a regiment of a thousand 
 men. The recruiting there has met with unlooked-for 
 success. Colonel Clifton reports that the ranks al- 
 ready are filled. Your admission alone is required, and 
 the ship, which will bear you down the waters of the 
 Susquehanna tomorrow, will carry a message of cheer 
 to them who have already entrusted themselves, their 
 destinies, their all to the realization of our common 
 hope. 
 
 "You will now take the oath of allegiance to the 
 government of His Majesty, which I shall administer 
 to you in a body. Tomorrow at the hour of eight I 
 shall meet you at the pier of embarkation. I shall be 
 glad to accompany you to reveal to you my interest
 
 244 THE LOYALIST 
 
 in your behalf. Only with a united front can we hope 
 for success and to this purpose we have dedicated our 
 lives and our fortunes. I shall ask you to rise to a 
 man, with your right arm upraised, to take the oath 
 of allegiance to your king." 
 
 Ill 
 
 The spell that held them broke, and the bustle be- 
 gan. A mumble filled the room, followed by moments 
 of animated discussion. Neighbor spoke to neighbor 
 in terms of approval or plied him with questions men- 
 acing and entreating. Anderson maintained his com- 
 posure to allow them to settle again into a period of 
 quietude before the administration of the oath. At 
 length Stephen arose as if to question, and was given 
 permission to speak by the chairman, Mr. Anderson. 
 
 "What immunity does His Majesty's Government 
 guarantee to us after the war?" 
 
 "The usual guarantee will of course be made," An- 
 derson replied. 
 
 "Does that mean that we shall be reestablished in 
 the good-will of our fellow-citizens?" Stephen again 
 inquired. 
 
 "Unquestionably. When the colonists see the im- 
 mense benefits which they have acquired, they will 
 readily condone all wrongs." 
 
 Intense interest was already manifest throughout 
 the room. Faces were eagerly bent forward lest a 
 word be lost. 
 
 "Such considerations, however, are irrelevant to our 
 purpose," dismissed Anderson with a wave of the hand. 
 
 "But it is of vital consequence to us. We must re- 
 turn to our people to live with them, and we cannot live
 
 THE LOYALIST 245 
 
 in an atmosphere of hatred. Who knows that our 
 lives may not be placed in jeopardy! My question 
 deals with this. Will any provision be made against 
 such a contingency?" 
 
 "It is too early to discuss the final settlement, but 
 you have my assurance that suitable protection will be 
 given." 
 
 "Your assurance?" repeated Stephen. "What 
 amount of assurance may you offer to us, you who ad- 
 mittedly are one of ourselves?" 
 
 "I consider that an impertinent question, sir, and in 
 no way connected with the business before us." 
 
 "It is of vital concern to us, I should say; and I for 
 one am desirous of knowing more about this affair 
 before yielding my consent." 
 
 "You have signed your papers of enlistment already, 
 I believe. There is no further course then for you to 
 pursue." 
 
 There was a rustle among the seats. Some had 
 begun to realize their fate; some had realized it from 
 the start but were powerless to prevent it. Two or 
 three faces turned a shade paler, and they became 
 profoundly silent. The others, too, held their tongues 
 to await the result of the controversy. For here was 
 a matter of vital concern to all. Up to now very few 
 deserters, especially among the Catholics, had been 
 discovered among the American forces. They had 
 heard of an individual or two surrendering himself to 
 the enemy, or of whole families going over to the other 
 side in order to retain their possessions and lands. 
 But a mutiny was another matter altogether. What 
 if they failed and the Colonists gained their independ- 
 ence! 
 
 "I suppose we are powerless," admitted Stephen in
 
 246 THE LOYALIST 
 
 a low tone of voice as he watched the effect of his 
 words on the gathering. "We are confronted," he con- 
 tinued, "with the dilemma of estrangement no matter 
 what side gains." 
 
 "England can't lose," interrupted Colonel Clifton, 
 who heretofore had been seated, an attentive observer. 
 "And with victory comes the establishment of the will 
 of the conqueror. Care will be taken that there shall 
 be adequate reparation." 
 
 "Very good!" answered Stephen. "Now together 
 with that privilege of immunity, can we be assured of 
 the extension of the Quebec Act? Has England so 
 decreed?" 
 
 "Not yet," Anderson admitted, "but that extension, 
 or one equal to it, will be made one of the conditions 
 of peace." 
 
 "We are sure of that, then?" 
 
 "Well, we are not sure, but it is only logical to infer 
 such a condescension will be made." 
 
 "I don't agree with you, I am sorry to say, for the 
 English Parliament may be of another mind when 
 peace and victory have been established." 
 
 "You are interrupting the meeting. Please let us 
 continue with our business," Anderson sharply re- 
 proved him. 
 
 "I speak for my fellow-citizens here," said Stephen 
 as he turned toward them with an appealing gesture, 
 "and I maintain that it is our privilege to know certain 
 matters before we transfer our allegiance." 
 
 It was now plain to the company that Anderson 
 was worried. His white thin lips were firmly com- 
 pressed as the wrath in his heart blazed within him. 
 He was aghast at the blow. It had come from a 
 quarter wholly unexpected. That this fellow in these
 
 THE LOYALIST 247 
 
 shabby clothes should be gifted with a freedom of 
 speech such as to confound him when he thought his 
 plans realized to the letter, was astounding. Why, 
 he might sway the minds of the entire assembly! Bet- 
 ter to silence him at once, or better still banish him 
 from the hall than to cope with the possibility of los- 
 ing the entire multitude. 
 
 "You have interrupted this meeting more than I 
 care to have you, sir. If you will kindly allow me to 
 proceed with the business before the house I shall 
 consider it a favor." 
 
 "I ask my fellow-citizens here," shouted Stephen by 
 way of reply, "if you or any man possesses the right 
 to deprive us of free speech, especially at a time as 
 momentous as this. I ask you, my friends, if I may 
 continue?" 
 
 "Yes! . . . Goon! . . . We will hear you I . . ." 
 were the several acclamations from the throng. 
 
 Anderson heard it with perceptible confusion He 
 fumbled nervously with his fingers, wholly ignorant of 
 what to say. 
 
 "Let me ask, then," said Stephen, "if the idea of 
 independence is wholly exclusive of religious tolera- 
 tion. Why are we, a mere handful of men, about to 
 pledge ourselves to the accomplishment by force of 
 arms what already is accomplished in our very midst? 
 Freedom of religious worship is already assured. The 
 several actions of the colonial governing bodies lend 
 us that assurance. England can do no more for us 
 than already has been done; and what has been done 
 by the Colonies will be guaranteed by the elective body 
 of the people in the days of independence. I am fear- 
 ful of the hazards that will accompany this enlistment. 
 Give me leave to address you on this topic that you
 
 248 THE LOYALIST 
 
 may understand my troubled state of mind. I appeal 
 to you. Give me leave to talk." 
 
 Whether it was the spontaneous sound issuing from 
 the ranks of those already initiated into the secret, or 
 whether a chord already attuned in the hearts and 
 minds of the entire assembly, had been marvelously 
 struck by him, there was a reverberation of approval 
 throughout the room in answer to Stephen's plea. So 
 unanimous was the demonstration that Anderson took 
 alarm. The air of democracy was revealing itself in 
 their instinctive enthusiasm. And while nothing might 
 result from Stephen's rambling remarks, still it would 
 afford them consolation that their side of the question 
 had been aired. To a man they voiced their approval 
 of the privilege which had been begged. 
 
 "Aye! . . .Speech! . . . Take the floor!"
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 "I have no desire to make a speech," Stephen began, 
 "but I have asked for this privilege of addressing you 
 because we are moving through critical times and be- 
 cause there are serious decisions to be made this eve- 
 ning, which it is neither right nor possible for us to 
 make without a full consideration of the state of 
 affairs. I have devoted much serious thought to this 
 subject. I have labored to arrive at a just conclusion, 
 and it is in that spirit that I would speak. I feel, too, 
 that I have an inalienable right as a free-born citizen 
 to express my views freely and publicly, as befits a 
 loyal adherent of the principles which we are now de- 
 fending with our blood. And first among those prin- 
 ciples is that which guarantees representation in all 
 matters that are of vital concern to us." 
 
 He had not left his chair but continued to talk from 
 his place beside it, turning, however, somewhat in the 
 direction of his audience. Silence reigned throughout 
 the room and every face was turned full upon him. 
 
 "I, too, had accepted the terms of enlistment on the 
 plea of the acquisition of our rights, so admirably 
 exposed to us by our good friend, Mr. Anderson. As 
 I pondered the matter, however, I seriously questioned 
 whether this were the proper time for the employment* 
 of such methods. What assurance have we, if in- 
 deed assurance be needed, that this is not another 
 
 249
 
 250 THE LOYALIST 
 
 trick of the enemy? Bear with me, please, while I 
 unfold to you my thoughts. 
 
 "Our leader and our guide in these matters, Mr. 
 Anderson, has made known to us that this business of 
 recruiting has been a great success. But did he tell us 
 of the sinister methods which often had been resorted 
 to, of the many threats which had been exercised over 
 a great number of us, of the debts which had been 
 relieved, of the intimidation which had been em- 
 ployed? He declared with manifest satisfaction that 
 the recruiting in the city of New York had been mar- 
 velous in its results, yet he did not explain to our 
 satisfaction the reason which impelled the leaders of 
 this revolt to seek members from the neighboring 
 cities to help swell the ranks; nor did he tell of the 
 means which had been made use of to secure that 
 marvelous number in the city, of all cities, where such 
 recruiting would be most successful because of the pres- 
 ent British occupation of the territory. Furthermore, 
 he failed to tell us that he himself is not a Catholic, 
 or that his true name is not Anderson, or of his history 
 previous to his appearance in this city. Neither did he 
 tell us that Lieutenant-Colonel Clifton, while a Phil- 
 adelphia Catholic, is a British subject, having accepted 
 British allegiance on the capture of the city a year ago 
 last September. There were many items of importance 
 which were not revealed to us. Shall I continue? I 
 have an abundance of facts to disclose to you, if you 
 give me leave." 
 
 So favorable had been the impression produced by 
 the speech of Anderson that Stephen felt apprehen- 
 sive lest his own criticism and contradiction would not 
 be accepted as true. And so he paused to learn if 
 possible the nature of his reception.
 
 THE LOYALIST 251 
 
 "Yes I . . . We want to hear theml . . . Tell us 
 more! . . ." 
 
 There was a wild outburst of approval, followed by 
 a generous handclapping In the confusion, Stephen 
 observed Anderson together with Colonel Clifton 
 leave their places on the platform and take seats on 
 the side of the room. 
 
 "It is quite true that we have no quarrel with the 
 English people. We have no quarrel with their king 
 or the framers of their laws. It is equally true that 
 the governments of Great Britain and the United 
 Colonies have become involved in a military struggle, 
 a struggle to the death; nevertheless we would be the 
 last to imply that there exists any essential antagonism 
 of interests or purposes between the two peoples. We 
 are not engaged in a contest between Englishmen and 
 Americans, but between two antagonistic principles of 
 government, each of which has its advocates and its 
 opponents among us who sit here, among those who 
 live with us in our own country, among those who 
 reside in far-off England. The contest is a political 
 contest, the ancient contest between the Whig and the 
 Tory principles of government, the contest of Chat- 
 ham and North, and Richmond, Rockingham and 
 Burke transferred to this side of the Atlantic. The 
 political liberty to which we have dedicated ourselves 
 is no product of our imaginations; our forefathers of 
 the seventeenth century brought it to our shores and 
 now we naturally refuse to surrender it. It is the prin- 
 ciple for which we are contending, the principles that 
 these United Colonies are and of a right ought to be 
 free and independent states; and in all matters else we 
 are loyal foster children of His Majesty the King, as 
 loyal and as interested a people in the welfare of the
 
 252 THE LOYALIST 
 
 mother country as the most devoted subject of the 
 crown residing in the city of London. 
 
 "War was inevitable. This has been known for 
 some time; but there has been no lack of cordiality 
 between the people of the United Kingdom and the 
 people of the United Colonies. We are opposed to 
 certain principles of statecraft, to the principle of 
 taxation without representation, to the same degree as 
 are the Whigs of our mother country. We cherish 
 the warmest sentiments of love and admiration for the 
 English people and we are ready to become their 
 brothers in arms at any future date for the defense of 
 those very ideals which we are now trying to estab- 
 lish, the blessings of democracy; but we abominate 
 autocracy and will have none of it. In this regard we 
 may be said to have disinfected our anger, but never 
 to have diluted it." 
 
 The Tory element moved about in their seats, and 
 Stephen suspected for a moment that he was being 
 treated with an air of disdain. He shifted his point 
 of view suddenly. 
 
 "To say that the Catholic people of this country are 
 dissatisfied with the conduct of the war is begging the 
 question, and brands them with a stigma which they 
 wholly undeserve. We admit for the sake of argu- 
 ment that our early cousins may have proved them- 
 selves somewhat intolerant, and, perhaps, rendered 
 conditions of life disagreeable to us; still gold must be 
 tried by the fire. We grow vigorous under storms of 
 persecution. And while it is true that the American 
 Congress of 1774 protested against the legislature of 
 Great Britain establishing a 'religion fraught with 
 impious tenets,' yet it is equally true that the Congress
 
 THE LOYALIST 253 
 
 of 1776 resolved to protect 'all foreigners in the free 
 exercise of their respective religions.' The past has 
 been buried by this; the future lies before us. 
 
 "We do not grieve on that account. Rather are we 
 proud of our adhesion to the cause of independence, 
 and you, yourselves, are no less proud of your own 
 efforts in this regard. The Commander-in-chief is 
 warmly disposed towards the Catholic element, not 
 alone in the army, but among the citizenry. His own 
 bodyguard is composed of men, more than thirty of 
 whom bear Catholic names. One of his aides, Colonel 
 Fitzgerald, is a Catholic. His Captain and Com- 
 mander of the Navy, nominated and appointed by 
 himself, is a Catholic, John Barry. We are appreci- 
 ative of the services of our General, and we are ready 
 to render ourselves worthy of the esteem and the 
 respect in which we are held by him, as was evidenced 
 by his abolition of the celebration of Guy Fawkes Day, 
 so detestable to us. 
 
 "I repeat this to impress upon you that this is not 
 the time for religious controversy or for nicely cal- 
 culating the scope and the extent of our service. The 
 temper of the times requires unity of action and defi- 
 nition of purpose. Our people respect us. Whatever 
 restrictions were lodged against us in the past have 
 been broken down now before the battering ram of 
 public opinion. The guarantees for the future given 
 by our own brethren, that we shall be permitted the 
 free and unrestricted exercise of our religious observ- 
 ances as well as the right to worship God according to 
 the dictates of our own consciences, are of more endur- 
 able texture than the flimsy promises of the enemy. 
 Our noble and generous ally, France, already has pro- 
 cured for us that respect and recognition so indispen-
 
 254 THE LOYALIST 
 
 sable to our safety and, contrary to the opinion already 
 expressed here tonight, has sent us six thousand men, 
 the first installment of an army of at least twelve thou- 
 sand trained soldiers, destined to be put directly under 
 General Washington's command. Together with these 
 she has already furnished Congress with large sums of 
 money to enable us to carry on the war. The dawn 
 of a brighter day is now breaking over the horizon 
 and in the east the sun of justice and of toleration and 
 of liberty may be seen breaking through the low-hung 
 clouds of oppression, prejudice and tyranny which 
 have so long obscured it. In our history there has 
 been no coward, no Tory, no traitor of our faith. We 
 are still Loyalists; but of different type. That precious 
 and historic document of July 4, 1776, definitely and 
 for all time absolved us from all allegiance to the 
 British Crown. By nature, then, we have become 
 citizens of a new government, a government instituted 
 by and subject to the peoples of these free and inde- 
 pendent states. Henceforth, Loyalty assumes a newer 
 and most lasting significance ; it has suddenly become 
 for us synonymous with the best and dearest interests 
 of our country." 
 He paused. 
 
 II 
 
 The sigh throughout the room was distinctly audible 
 as he ended his paragraph with a rhetorical pause. 
 He caught the sound on the instant and understood its 
 meaning as the orator, holding his audience in breath- 
 less intensity, allows them to drop suddenly that he 
 may appreciate his control of their feelings. Their 
 pent-up energies give way to an abrupt relaxation 
 followed by a slight scuffling of the body or an inter-
 
 THE LOYALIST 255 
 
 mittent cough. From these unconscious indications, 
 Stephen knew that he had held their interest and he did 
 not intend that they should be allowed to compose 
 themselves quite, until he had finished. He began at 
 once on the evidence of the plot. 
 
 "The members of this proposed company before 
 whom I have the privilege of speaking, have been the 
 victims of a gigantic plot, a plot that found its origin 
 in the headquarters of the British army at New York 
 City. It was to advance the plan that John Anderson 
 came to Philadelphia. He had carried on communi- 
 cation with the enemy almost without interruption. 
 Because the work of recruiting in the city of the enemy 
 was a failure, it was decreed that the city of Phila- 
 delphia, as the most Tory of the American cities, be 
 called upon for the requisite number. Of the progress 
 here, you already know. Of the multifarious means 
 employed, you yourselves can bear excellent witness. 
 Of the ultimate success of the venture you are now 
 about to decide. 
 
 "The Military Governor, General Arnold, was 
 early initiated into the scheme. For a long time he has 
 borne a fierce grudge against Congress, and he hoped 
 that the several Catholic members of the body might 
 be induced to forsake the American cause. They 
 sought Father Farmer, our good pastor, as chaplain of 
 the regiment, but he refused with mingled delicacy and 
 tact. Indeed, were it not for the hostile state of the 
 public mind, a campaign of violence would have been 
 resorted to; but Arnold felt the pulse of dislike throb- 
 bing in the heart of the community and very wisely re- 
 frained from increasing its fervor. All possible aid 
 was furnished by him, however, in a secret manner. 
 His counsel was generously given. Many of your
 
 256 THE LOYALIST 
 
 names were supplied by him together with an estimate* 
 of your financial standing, your worth in the commun- 
 ity, your political tendencies, the strength of your re- 
 ligious convictions. And what a comparatively simple 
 matter it was for one thus equipped to accomplish so 
 marvelous and so satisfactory results! 
 
 "I repeat, then, General Arnold is strongly preju- 
 diced against us. It is an open secret that Catholic 
 soldiers have fared ill at his hands. Tories and Jews 
 compose his retinue, but no Catholics. I am not critical 
 in this respect for I observe that he is enjoying but a 
 personal privilege. But I allude to this fact at this 
 moment to assure you that this scheme of forming a 
 regiment of Roman Catholic Volunteers is directed 
 solely to sulwrert the good relations already existing 
 between us am& our brethren in arms. The promises 
 made bore no hope of fulfillment. The guarantees of 
 immunity deserve no consideration. The Quebec Act, 
 and for this I might say in passing that we are duly 
 grateful, was never to be extended. In view of these 
 observations, I ask you: are you willing to continue 
 with this nefarious business? Are you?" 
 
 "No!" was the interruption. The outburst was 
 riotous. "Arrest the traitor! ... I move we ad- 
 journ! . . ." 
 
 Stephen held out his hands in supplication to be- 
 seech them to hear him further. 
 
 "Please, gentlemen! Just one more word," he 
 pleaded. 
 
 They stood still and listened. 
 
 "Has it occurred to you, let me ask, that the vessel 
 which has been engaged to transport you to the city of 
 New York is named the his, a sloop well known to 
 sea-faring men of this city? She is owned by Phil-
 
 THE LOYALIST 257 
 
 adelphia citizens and manned by a local crew. Does 
 not this strike you as remarkably strange and signifi- 
 cant, that a vessel of this character should clear this 
 port and enter the port of the enemy without flying the 
 enemy's flag? Think of it, gentlemen! An American 
 vessel with an American crew employed by the enemy, 
 and chartered to aid and abet the enemy's cause!" 
 
 They resumed their seats to give their undivided 
 attention to this new topic of interest. Some sat alert, 
 only partly on the chair; some sat forward with their 
 chins resting in the palms of their hands. So absorbed 
 were all in astonishment and amazement, that no other 
 thought gave them any concern save that of the vessel. 
 The side door had opened and closed, yet no one 
 seemed to notice the occurrence. Even Stephen had 
 failed to observe it. 
 
 "As a matter of fact," he continued, "the ship has 
 not been chartered by the enemy. She is about to clear 
 this port and enter the port of the enemy by virtue of 
 a pass issued through General Arnold. . . . Please, 
 just a moment, until I conclude," he exclaimed, holding 
 out his hand with a restraining gesture. "This matter 
 has heretofore been a close secret, but it is necessary 
 now that the truth should be known. To issue a pass 
 for such an errand is a violation of the American Ar- 
 ticles of War and for this offense I now formally 
 charge Major-General Benedict Arnold with treason." 
 
 "The traitor! . . . Court-martial him! . . shouted 
 several voices. 
 
 "I charge him with being unfaithful to his trust. 
 He had made use of our wagons to transport the prop- 
 erty of the enemy at a time when the lines of com- 
 munication of the enemy were no farther distant than 
 Egg Harbor. He has allowed many of our people to
 
 258 THE LOYALIST 
 
 enter and leave the lines of the enemy. He has illegally 
 concerned himself over the profits of a privateer. He 
 has imposed, or at any rate has given his sanction to 
 the imposition of menial offices upon the sons of free- 
 dom who are now serving in the militia, as was the 
 case with young Matlack, which you will remember. 
 And he has of late improperly granted a pass for a 
 vessel to clear for the port of the enemy. I desire to 
 make these charges publicly in order that you may 
 know that my criticisms are not without foundation. 
 I have in view your welfare alone." 
 
 "Aye! . . . We believe you! . . . Let us adjourn!" 
 
 "Let me ask Mr. Aaderson one or two questions. 
 If they can be answered to your satisfaction we shall 
 accept his overtures. On the other hand let us dispense 
 once and for all with this nefarious business and frus- 
 trate this insidious conspiracy so that we may renew 
 our energies for the task before us which alone mat- 
 ters the task of overcoming the enemy. 
 
 "First! Who has financed the organization, equip- 
 ment, transportation of this regiment of Roman Cath- 
 olic Volunteers? 
 
 "Second: From what source or sources originated 
 the various methods of blackmail? 
 
 "Third: Who first suggested the cooperation of 
 General Arnold? 
 
 "Fourth: What pressure was brought to bear in 
 the obtaining of the passport for the vessel to clear 
 port?" 
 
 HI 
 
 But there was no Anderson to give answer. It was 
 found that he, together with Colonel Clifton and sev-
 
 THE LOYALIST 259 
 
 eral members of the party, had disappeared from the 
 room. No one had remembered seeing them take their 
 departure, yet it was observed that they had left the 
 platform in the course of Stephen's speech to take seats 
 on the further side of the hall, near to the door. This 
 might have opened and closed several times during 
 Stephen's speech, and, more especially, at the time 
 when they had crowded the aisles near the close of the 
 address, and little or no attention would have been 
 paid to it. Very likely Anderson had taken advantage 
 of such an opportunity to make an escape. 
 
 It was a very different room now. What had been 
 a state of remarkable quiet with every man in his seat, 
 with the conversation hardly above the tone of a 
 whisper, with the uniform tranquillity disturbed solely 
 by the remarks of the two speakers, was now giving 
 way to a precipitous uproar which approached a riot. 
 Men surged about one another and about Stephen 
 in an endeavor to learn the details of the plot. Groups 
 separated themselves from other equally detached 
 groups, all absorbed, however, in the same topic. 
 Voices, formerly hushed, now became vociferous. The 
 walls reverberated with the tumultuous confusion. 
 
 "What dupes I" one was remarking to his neighbor. 
 "How easily were we led by his smooth talk!" 
 
 "We were misguided in our motives of allegiance. 
 We might have sensed a trick of the enemy," was the 
 reply. 
 
 "Let us win the war, first," shouted a third. 
 
 "Aye I Freedom first; then religious liberty." 
 
 "Who is he?" another asked. "It cannot be Cad 
 walader." 
 
 "No," answered the neighbor. "This was pre-
 
 260 THE LOYALIST 
 
 arranged. He borrowed Cadwalader's card to come 
 here." 
 
 "I always told you Arnold was no good," sounded 
 a great voice. "He'd sell us to the devil if he could 
 get paid for it. I suppose he'll go to New York sure." 
 
 "Let him. Wish he was out of here." 
 
 "Say!" one asked Stephen rather abruptly. "How 
 did you get all this straight?" 
 
 "I interested myself the moment the scheme took 
 root. I assured myself that all was not as it should 
 be and I took pains to verify my suspicions," was the 
 grave reply. 
 
 "I know, but how did ye get 'em?" 
 
 "By following every move this Anderson made. I 
 tracked him even to Mount Pleasant." 
 
 "And got beforehand with Arnold?" 
 
 "I overheard the major portion of the conversa- 
 tion." 
 
 "Pardon me," asked another individual, neater in 
 appearance than the majority, and evidently of more 
 education, "but have I not seen you before?" 
 
 "Perhaps you have," laughed Stephen. 
 
 "Where?" 
 
 "I could not begin to imagine." 
 
 "Where do you live? In town?" 
 
 "For the present, yes." 
 
 "Who are you?" 
 
 "Can't you see? Just one of you?" 
 
 "Never saw you in those clothes before. If I am 
 not greatly mistaken you are the one who came to the 
 Coffee House one day with Matt. Allison." 
 
 "Yes," admitted Stephen, "I am the same.'* 
 
 "How did you come by those clothes?" 
 
 "Borrowed them."
 
 THE LOYALIST 261 
 
 "In disguise, eh?" 
 
 "It was necessary to simulate a disguise. Otherwise 
 I could never have gained admission here. I learned 
 that Jim Cadwalader had been impressed into the 
 company and I arranged to come in his place." 
 
 "Oh!" 
 
 "You took a mighty big risk." 
 
 "It was required. But I knew that there was but 
 one way of playing this game and that was to defeat 
 them openly by their own tactics. I had to depend, of 
 course, upon the temper of the proposed members. 
 All might be lost or won at one throw of the dice. I 
 worded my remarks to that effect, and I won." 
 
 "What did you say your name was?" 
 
 "I did not say what it was," Stephen exchanged in 
 good-natured repartee, "but since you ask, it is 
 Meagher." 
 
 "Captain Meagher?" 
 
 Stephen smiled. 
 
 It must have been fully half-past nine when the 
 meeting broke up; and that was at the departure of 
 Stephen. He had lingered long enough to assure him- 
 self that the company was of a mind far different from 
 that which had engaged them upon their arrival. They 
 were now to go forth wiser men. But they knew that 
 the people of the city could be moved quickly to indig- 
 nation as quickly, indeed, as they could be moved to 
 favor. And how were they to explain their conduct? 
 They resolved to lay the story with all its details be- 
 fore the very table of public opinion and allow that 
 tribunal to discriminate between the shades of guilt. 
 
 Anderson, of course, had fled. That in itself was a 
 confession and a point in their favor. It was plain to
 
 262 THE LOYALIST 
 
 their minds that they had been victimized by the clever 
 machinations of this man. If there had been any lack 
 of unity of opinion concerning the righteousness of the 
 project before, there was no divided opinion now. 
 They knew what they were about to do, and they made 
 all possible haste to puttheir thought into execution. 
 
 The ancient antip^hy against the Military Gov- 
 ernor was only intensified the more. Rumor would 
 confirm the charges that would be published against 
 him, of that they would take proper care. It was 
 enough that they had been deluded by Anderson, but 
 to be mere pawns in the hands of Arnold was more 
 than they could stand. Too long had he been toler- 
 ated with his Tory wife and her manner of living, and 
 now was an opportunity. Their path of duty was 
 outlined before them. 
 
 Thoroughly satisfied with his evening's work, 
 Stephen turned down the street whistling softly to 
 himself.
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 "Come!" said Stephen in response to the soft knock 
 upon his door panel. "Just a minute." 
 
 He arose from his knees from the side of his bed. 
 It was his custom to pray in this posture both morning 
 and night; in the morning to thank his Lord for having 
 brought him safely through the night and to offer Him 
 all his prayers and works and sufferings of the day. 
 At night to implore pardon for his shortcomings of 
 the day and to commend himself into the hands of his 
 Creator. This morning, however, the noise of heavy 
 footsteps on the stairway had caused him to abbreviate 
 somewhat his devotional exercise. 
 
 "Come in!" he repeated as he slipped back the bolt 
 and opened the door. "Oh! Good morning! You're 
 out early. How are you?" 
 
 He shook the hands of his early morning visitors 
 warmly. 
 
 "Fine morning!" replied Mr. Allison. "Sorry to 
 have disturbed you, but Jim was around early and 
 desired to see you." 
 
 "Sure ! No disturbance at all, I assure you. I was 
 on the point of leaving for breakfast." 
 
 "Go right ahead. Please don't delay on our 
 account. We can wait. Go ahead," expostulated Mr. 
 Allison. 
 
 "We want'd t* be sure an' git ye, thet wuz all," 
 
 263
 
 264 THE LOYALIST 
 
 remarked Jim. "Eat first. We'll be here when y* git 
 back." 
 
 "Sit down and make yourselves comfortable," and 
 he arranged several chairs about the room. "I over- 
 slept, I fear. Last night taxed me." 
 
 "You did justice to yourself and to us last night. 
 The splendid result was your reward." 
 
 They were seated, Jim by the window, Mr. Allison 
 at Stephen's desk. The disorder of early morning was 
 apparent in the room, the furniture disarranged and 
 all manner of clothing, bed covering, wearing apparel, 
 towels, piled or thrown carelessly about. No one 
 seemed to mind it, however, for no one paused to 
 rearrange it. 
 
 "It wuz a big night. Tell us how did ye git along 
 with 'em?" asked Jim. 
 
 "Much better than I had anticipated," Stephen re- 
 plied. "I thought that Anderson's talk had won them 
 entirely, but when I asked for the floor, I saw at once 
 that many were with me. Had you instructed them?" 
 This question was directed towards Jim. 
 
 "I did. I saw a doz'n at least. You know they had 
 no use fur th' thing and were glad o' th' chance. I 
 made a big secret out o' it, and they watch'd fur my 
 ol j clothes." 
 
 "I thought I felt their glances. They stuck true, 
 you may be assured. I knew, too, that I possessed a 
 reserve blow in the affair of the Isis. The mention 
 of Arnold's name inflamed them." 
 
 "I am sorry to have missed that," Mr. Allison said. 
 
 "How did they avoid you?" Stephen asked. 
 
 "I don't know. I was never approached although 
 I had been acquainted with the rumors of the thing 
 right along. I suppose they figured that I would
 
 THE LOYALIST 265 
 
 threaten them with exposure. They knew where I 
 stood; and then again they knew that they could 
 threaten me with no debts. For some reason or other 
 they thought best to avoid me." 
 
 "I guess we killed it for good." 
 
 "Kill'd it?" exclaimed Jim. "It's deader 'n a six- 
 day corpse. An' there's great talk goin' on t'day on all 
 th' corners. We're right wid th' peepul y' kin bet, and 
 they thought best to avoid me." 
 
 "Have you noticed any agitation?" 
 
 "There has been a little disturbance," Mr. Allison 
 admitted, "but no violence. It has been talk more than 
 anything. Many are wondering who you are and how 
 you obtained your information. Others are consid- 
 erably taken back by the unveiling of Anderson. The 
 greatest of respect is being shown to us on the street, 
 and congratulations are being offered to us from all 
 sides." 
 
 "I am glad the sentiment has changed. It now 
 looks like the dawn of a better day. We should be 
 spurred on, however, to greater endeavor in the mani- 
 festation of our loyalty, especially among the minority 
 Tory element." 
 
 Outside, the street was beginning to feel the impulse 
 of life. Over across, the buildings shone with the 
 brightness of the morning sun which was reflected 
 mildly from the glassy windows. There was a silent 
 composure about it all, with no sound save the foot- 
 falls of the passing horse or the rattle of the business 
 wagon. Somewhere across the street the man with the 
 violin continued his fiddling. 
 
 "Does that keep up all day?" 
 
 "Almost! It is amusing to hear Griff swearing at
 
 266 THE LOYALIST 
 
 him. The humorous part of it is that he plays but 
 one tune, 'Yankee Doodle.' ' 
 
 "Can't ye steal it some night?" asked Jim, u an' 
 bust it over 's head." 
 
 "I don't care," laughed Stephen, "he doesn't bother 
 me." 
 
 The door opened and shut. Sergeant Griffin en- 
 tered, saluted Stephen and took the hands of the 
 visitors. 
 
 "Well, what do you think of the boy?" 
 
 "I alwa's said he wuz a good boy." 
 
 "The fun hasn't begun yet," announced the Ser- 
 geant. "I have just learned that the City Council has 
 met, and is about to issue formal charges against Gen- 
 eral Arnold." 
 
 Stephen whistled. 
 
 "They are glad of this opportunity," he announced 
 quietly. 
 
 "Reed never took kindly to him, not from the first 
 day," declared Mr. Allison. 
 
 "Well, if Reed gits after 'm he'll make the fur fly. 
 He's a bad man when he gits goin'." 
 
 "Did you say they had met?" Stephen inquired. 
 
 "I understand they have. The affair of last night 
 is being talked of freely on the street. And they are 
 talking about you, most of all, and wonder if you had 
 been sent by Washington to uncover this. One thing 
 is certain: Arnold is in disgrace and the sooner he 
 gets out of here the better it will be for him." 
 
 "The General likes 'im and p'rhaps '11 give 'im a 
 transf'r." 
 
 "By the way!" interrupted Mr. Allison. "My girl 
 wants to see you."
 
 THE LOYALIST 267 
 
 "See me?" Stephen quickly repeated, pointing to 
 himself. 
 
 "She told me on leaving to tell you." 
 
 "Very well. Is it urgent?" 
 
 "No. I guess not. She didn't say it as if it were." 
 
 "Tell her for me, I shall go as soon as I can." 
 
 "What's th' next thin' t' do?" asked Jim. 
 
 "Matters will take care of themselves for awhile," 
 Stephen replied. "Anderson, I suppose, has left town 
 together with Clifton and the others. If the City 
 Council has met to publish charges against Arnold, 
 there is nothing to do but await the result of these. 
 The people, I presume, are of one mind now and if 
 they are not they will soon be converted once the news 
 of last night's affair has reached their ears." 
 
 "Are you going to remain here?" asked Mr. Alli- 
 son. 
 
 "I am going to take some breakfast, first; then I 
 shall busy myself with a report. I may be busy for 
 several days away from the city. In the meantime 
 I would advise that the whole affair be aired as much 
 as possible. There is nothing like supplying the public 
 mind with food. Meet me, Jim, at the Coffee House; 
 or are you coming with me?" 
 
 "Guess I'll go. This man wants t' eat." 
 
 n 
 
 The City Council did meet, as rumor announced to 
 Sergeant Griffin, and immediately published charges 
 against David Franks, the father of the aide-de-camp 
 of the Military Governor, charging him with being in 
 correspondence with his brother in London, who was 
 holding the office of Commissary for British prison-
 
 268 THE LOYALIST 
 
 ers. He was ordered to be placed under immediate 
 arrest. At the same time formal charges, partly of a 
 military nature, partly of a civil, were preferred 
 against the Military Governor. Copies of indictment 
 were laid before Congress and before the Governors 
 of the states, who were asked to communicate them 
 to their respective legislatures. 
 
 The press became wildly excited. Great headlines 
 announced the startling news to the amazement of the 
 country. For, it must be remembered, Philadelphia 
 was the center of government and colonial life, and 
 the eyes of the infant nation were turned continually 
 in its direction. General Arnold's name soon became 
 a subject for conversation on every side. 
 
 None took the news more to heart than the Gen- 
 eral himself, as he sat in his great drawing-room with 
 a copy of the evening news sheet before him. Being 
 of an imaginative, impulsive nature it was natural for 
 him to worry, but tonight there was the added feature 
 of the revelation of his guilt. Reed had pursued him 
 relentlessly, and the public announcement of his par- 
 ticipation in the attempted formation of this detest- 
 able regiment only furnished the President of the 
 Council with the opening he had so long desired. He 
 re-read the charges preferred against him, his name 
 across the front in big bold type. In substance they 
 were as follows : 
 
 First: That the Military Governor had issued a 
 pass for a vessel employed by the enemy, to come into 
 port without the knowledge of the State authorities or 
 of the Commander-in-chief. 
 
 Second: That upon taking possession of the city he 
 had closed the shops and stores, preventing the public 
 from purchasing, while at the same time, "as was
 
 THE LOYALIST 269 
 
 believed," he had made considerable purchases for his 
 own benefit. 
 
 Third: That he imposed menial offices upon the 
 militia when called into service. 
 
 Fourth: That in a dispute over the capture of a 
 prize brought in by a state privateer he had purchased 
 the suit at a low and inadequate price. 
 
 Fifth: That he had devoted the wagons of the 
 state to transporting the private property of Tories. 
 
 Sixth: That, contrary to law, he had given a pass 
 to an unworthy person to go within the enemy's lines. 
 
 Seventh: That the Council had been met with a 
 disrespectful refusal when they asked him to explain 
 the subject-matter of the Fifth charge. 
 
 Eighth: That the patriotic authorities, both civil 
 and military, were treated coldly and neglectfully, in 
 a manner entirely different from his line of conduct 
 towards the adherents of the king. 
 
 A further account of the Council meeting was then 
 given wherein it was stated that a motion had been 
 made to suspend General Arnold from all command 
 during the time the inquiry was being made into these 
 accusations, but it had been voted down. Congress 
 was asked, the story went on, to decide on the value 
 of these charges and to refer them to the proper 
 tribunal, the necessary amount of evidence being prom- 
 ised at the proper time. 
 
 "The fools!" he muttered. "They think that these 
 can hold water." 
 
 He continued to read, and holding the paper at a 
 distance from him, gazed at it. 
 
 "What a shame! Every paper in the country will 
 have this story before the week is out. I'm disgraced." 
 
 He fell back in his chair with his head propped up
 
 270 THE LOYALIST 
 
 by his elbow. In his other hand, thrown across the 
 arm of the chair, was held the paper. His brows were 
 contracted, his eyes closed, his face flushed in indica- 
 tion of the tumult that surged within him. His mind 
 was engaged in a long process of thought which began 
 with his memories of his early campaigns and traced 
 themselves down to the events of the present moment. 
 There was no decision, no constancy of resolution, no 
 determination; just worry, and apprehension, and so- 
 licitude, and the loud, rapid beatings of his temple 
 against his hand. 
 
 "Suspend me ! I'll forestall them, damn 'em. I'll 
 resign first." 
 
 He wondered where Anderson had gone or what 
 fortune he had met with. The morning brought the 
 first report of the disruption of the meeting and of 
 the unknown person who had single-handed accom- 
 plished it. There must be a traitor somewhere, for 
 no one save Anderson and himself had been initiated 
 into the secret. Margaret knew, of course, but she 
 could be trusted. Perhaps after all the man had 
 escaped that night. Perhaps it was this very person 
 who had created the furore at the meeting. Who was 
 he? How did he get in? Why were proper steps 
 not taken to safeguard the room against all possibili- 
 ties of this nature? Bah! Anderson had bungled the 
 thing from the start. He was a boy sent on a man's 
 errand. 
 
 The regiment was deftkjct. To speculate further on 
 that subject would be futile. It never had existed, as 
 far as he could see, except on paper, and there it re- 
 mained, a mere potentiality. The single-handed dis- 
 ruption of it proved how utterly deprived it was of 
 cohesion and organization. That one man, alone and
 
 THE LOYALIST 271 
 
 in disguise, could have acquainted himself thoroughly 
 with the whole proceeding, could have found his way 
 with no attempt at interference into the meeting place, 
 and with a few well-chosen words could have moved 
 an entire audience to espouse the very contrary of their 
 original purpose, indicated the stability and the temper 
 of the assembly. To coerce men is a useless endeavor. 
 Even the Almighty finds it well not to interfere with 
 man's power of choice. They might be led or enticed 
 or cajoled; but to force them, or intimidate them, or 
 overwhelm them, is an idle and unavailing adventure. 
 
 Anderson had failed miserably and his conspiracy 
 had perished with him. Not a prominent Catholic had 
 been reached in the first place; not a member of the 
 poorest class would now leave the city. The affair 
 with its awful disclosures only added strength to their 
 position, for whatever aspersions might have been 
 cast upon their loyalty in the event of the successful 
 deportation of the company, were now turned like a 
 boomerang against the very ones who had engineered 
 the scheme. The community would respect the Cath- 
 olics more for the future. They were to profit by his 
 undoing. They would be valued for the test that their 
 patriotism had stood. 
 
 There was another consideration, however, which 
 wore a graver complexion and tormented him beyond 
 endurance. This was the solicitude for his own safety. 
 The people had hated him for years and had proceeded 
 to invent stories about him which might justify its 
 anger. It had been a satisfaction for him to reflect 
 that, for the most part, these stories had not been the 
 causes, but rather the effects of public indignation. But 
 what answer could he make now, what apology could 
 he offer for this late transaction, this conspiracy at
 
 272 THE LOYALIST 
 
 once so evident and palpable? As far as the question 
 of his guilt was concerned there would be little con- 
 jecture about that. Ten or twenty accounts of the ven- 
 ture, inconsistent with one another and with themselves, 
 would be circulated simultaneously. Of that he had no 
 doubt. People would neither know nor care about the 
 evidence. It was enough that he had been implicated. 
 He would ask for a court-martial. That, of course. 
 Through no other tribunal could a just and a satis- 
 factory decision be reached, and it was paramount that 
 another verdict besides that pronounced/ by public 
 opinion be obtained. Unquestionably, he would be 
 acquitted. His past service, his influence, his character 
 would prove themselves determining factors during his 
 trial. Fully one-half of the charges were ridiculous 
 and would be thrown out of court as incontestable, and 
 of the remainder only one would find him technically 
 culpable. Still it were better for a court to decide 
 upon these matters, and to that end he decided to 
 request a general court-martial. 
 
 Ill 
 
 "You have removed your uniform?" Peggy asked 
 in surprise as she beheld him entering the doorway of 
 the drawing-room. 
 
 "Yes," was the solemn reply. "I am no longer a 
 confederate of France." 
 
 He limped slowly across the room, leaning on his 
 cane. He had laid aside his buff and blue uniform, 
 with the epaulets and sword knots, and was clad in a 
 suit of silken black. His hose and shoes were of the 
 same color, against which his blouse, cuffs and periwig 
 were emphasized, a pale white.
 
 THE LOYALIST 273 
 
 "But you are still a Major-General," she corrected. 
 
 "I was; but am no longer. I have resigned." 
 
 She started at the announcement. Obviously she 
 had not anticipated this move. 
 
 "You have resigned? When?" 
 
 "I wrote the letter a short time ago. I precluded 
 their designs." 
 
 He sat in his great chair, and, reaching for his stool, 
 placed his foot upon it. 
 
 "But ... I ... I don't understand." 
 
 "I do perfectly. I shall be tried by court-martial, 
 of course; they have moved already to suspend me 
 pending the course of my trial. I want to anticipate 
 any such possibility, that is all." 
 
 "But you will be reinstated?" 
 
 "I don't know, nor care," he added. 
 
 "And what about us, our home, our life here," she 
 asked with a marked concern. 
 
 "Oh! That will go on. This is your house, re- 
 member, if it comes to the worst; you are mistress 
 here. This is your home." 
 
 "If it comes to the worst? To what?'* 
 
 "Well, if I should be found guilty . . . and . . . 
 sentenced." 
 
 "I should not stay here a minute," she cried, stamp- 
 ing her foot. "Not one minute after the trial! In 
 this town? With that element? Not for an hour!" 
 
 "Well!" he exclaimed, making a gesture with both 
 hands, together with a slight shrug of the shoulders. 
 
 "Where is Anderson?" she asked quickly. 
 
 "In New York, I presume, ere this. I have not 
 seen him." 
 
 "Fled?" 
 
 "The only proper thing. It's a great wonder to me
 
 274 THE LOYALIST 
 
 that he escaped at all. I should have expected him 
 torn to pieces by that mob." 
 
 "A bungled piece of business. I imagined that he 
 was assured of success. A sorry spectacle to allow 
 them to slip from his grasp so easily." 
 
 "Margaret, you do not understand a mob. They 
 are as fickle as a weather-cock. The least attraction 
 sways them." 
 
 "Who did it? Have you yet learned?" 
 
 "No. A bedraggled loafer, gifted with more talk 
 than occupation. He was acquainted with the whole 
 scheme from beginning to end, and worked upon their 
 feelings with evidences of treason. The sudden men- 
 tion of my name in connection with the plot threw cold 
 water on the whole business. They were on their feet 
 in an instant." 
 
 "You are quite popular," was the taunt. 
 
 "Evidently. The pass inspired them. It would de- 
 feat any purpose, and Anderson must have sensed it 
 and taken his hurried departure. No one has since 
 heard or seen aught of him." 
 
 "He was a fool to drag you into this, and you were 
 as great a fool to allow it." 
 
 "Margaret, don't chide me in that manner. I did 
 what I thought best. But I'm through now with these 
 cursed Catholics and with France." 
 
 "You are a free man now," she murmured. 
 
 "What do you mean?" 
 
 "I mean that this court-martial relieves you of any 
 further obligation to the colonies," was the answer. 
 
 "But I may still be Second in command." 
 
 She paused to regard him. Did he continue to 
 cherish ambitions of this nature; or was he attempting 
 to jest with her?
 
 THE LOYALIST 275 
 
 "You seem to forget Gates and the Congress," she 
 said with manifest derision. 
 
 "No. In spite of them." 
 
 She lost all patience. 
 
 "Listen! Don't flatter yourself any longer. Your 
 cause is hopeless, as hopeless as the cause for which 
 the stupid colonists are contending. You are now free 
 to put an end to this strife. Go over to the enemy and 
 persuade Washington and the leaders of the revolt to 
 discuss terms." 
 
 "Impossible!" 
 
 "What is impossible? Simply announce your defec- 
 tion; accept the terms of His Majesty's government; 
 and invite Adams, Franklin, Jefferson, Hamilton and 
 Washington to meet you. There is the assurance of 
 all save complete independence." 
 
 "I shall wait." 
 
 "For what? The court-martial will be against you 
 from the start. Mark my words. You will be found 
 guilty, if not actually, at least technically. They are 
 determined upon revenge and they are going to have it. 
 You saw the paper?" 
 
 "I did." 
 
 "You read the list of charges?" 
 
 He did not answer. He had sunk into his chair and 
 his hands were clasped before him. He was engaged 
 in a detailed series of thought. 
 
 "How many of them were artificial? Except for 
 the first, that about the pass, none are worth the read- 
 ing, and the first never can be proved. They have no 
 evidence apart from the fanatical ravings of a drunken 
 Catholic. But wait! You shall be adjudged guilty 
 in the end. See if I am not correct."
 
 276 THE LOYALIST 
 
 "I have the right to question the composition of the 
 court!" 
 
 "What matter! You know the people detest you. 
 They have hated you from the moment you set foot 
 in this city. Every issue of the paper found some new 
 grievance against you. And when you married me the 
 bomb was exploded. You yourself know that it was 
 the mere fact of your participation in this scheme that 
 quelled it. They loathe you, I tell you. They hate 
 you." 
 
 Silence reigned in the room as she finished. His eyes 
 were closed and he gave every appearance of having 
 fallen into a deep sleep. His mind was keenly alert, 
 however, and digested every word she uttered. At 
 length he arose from his composure and limped to the 
 window at the further end of the room. 
 
 "I shall ask for a new command," he said quietly, 
 "and we shall be removed for all time from this ac- 
 cursed place. I shall do service again." 
 
 "Better to await developments. Attend to your 
 trial first. Plan for the future later." 
 
 "I shall obey the wishes of the people." 
 
 "The people! A motley collection of fools! They 
 have eyes and ears but no more. They know every- 
 thing and can do nothing." 
 
 "I don't know what to do. I . . ." 
 
 "I told you what to do," she interrupted his thought 
 and finished it for him. "I told you to join Anderson. 
 I told you to go to New York and make overtures to 
 General Clinton. That's what you should do. Seek 
 respect and power and honor for your old age." 
 
 "That I shall not do. Washington loves me and 
 my people will not desert me to my enemies. The 
 court-martial is the thing."
 
 THE LOYALIST 277 
 
 "As you say. But remember my prophecy." 
 
 He turned and again sought his chair. She arose to 
 assist him into it. 
 
 "I wonder who that fellow could be! He knew it 
 all." 
 
 "Did you not hear?" 
 
 "No. I have seen no one who could report to me. 
 The details were missing." 
 
 "Did you ever stop to think of the spy in the 
 garden?" 
 
 "I did." 
 
 "That was the man, I am sure. You know his body 
 has not been found, and if I am not mistaken, it was 
 present at that meeting hall." 
 
 "We shall learn of his identity. We shall learn." 
 
 "Too late! Too late!" 
 
 He again dozed off while she watched him. For 
 several minutes they sat in this manner until she stole 
 out of the room and left him alone. Soon he was 
 wrapped in the arms of a gentle slumber. Some time 
 later she aroused him.
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 A fortnight later there came to the Allison home a 
 messenger from Stephen in the person of Sergeant 
 Griffin. He appeared at the doorway just as the 
 shroud of eventide was being enfolded about the land- 
 scape, changing its hues of green and gray to the more 
 somber ones of blue or purple; just at the time when 
 the indoor view of things is about to be made apparent 
 only by the artificial beams of the tallow and dip. 
 
 "Hail!" he said; "I have business with Matthew 
 Allison." 
 
 "From Stephen?" Marjorie asked with evident in- 
 terest. 
 
 He shook his head. 
 
 "The trial " 
 
 "Oh I" exclaimed Marjorie. Plainly she was re- 
 lieved at the nature of the message. Then she turned. 
 
 "Father!" she called. 
 
 "I am coming directly," cried Mr. Allison from the 
 rear. 
 
 She had clear forgotten to invite the sergeant into 
 the room, so absorbed was she in the nature of the 
 business at hand. Expectancy breeds cowardice. 
 When great issues are at stake every act wears an 
 awful meaning. For this reason she stood transfixed 
 at the threshold, before this unexpected arrival, whom 
 she associated with the image of Stephen. With the 
 
 278
 
 THE LOYALIST 279 
 
 sudden and delightful lessening of her anxiety, how- 
 ever, she bethought herself. 
 
 "Won't you come in? It was stupid of me not to 
 have asked you before." 
 
 The sergeant acted promptly. Marjorie followed 
 at a little distance, but had no sooner entered the room' 
 herself than her father came through the other door. 
 
 "What news? Arnold?" 
 
 "Found guilty," was the response. 
 
 "The court-martial has come to an end?" asked the 
 girl. 
 
 "Yes, Miss. And he has been found guilty," he 
 repeated. 
 
 "I thought so," muttered Mr. Allison. 
 
 They were seated now in the parlor, the two men at 
 opposite ends of the table, the girl at the side of the 
 room. 
 
 "They met at Morristown?" asked Mr. Allison. 
 
 "Yes. At Norris' Tavern. Major-General Howe 
 was chairman of the court. Only four charges were 
 pressed for trial: the matter of the pass; the affair of 
 the wagons; the shops; and the imposition upon the 
 militia." 
 
 "And Arnold?" 
 
 "He managed his own trial, and conducted his own 
 cross-examination. He made an imposing spectacle as 
 he limped before the court. The sword knots of 
 Washington were about his waist and he took pains 
 to allude to them several times during the defense. It 
 was astonishing to hear his remarkable flow of lan- 
 guage and his display of knowledge of military law. 
 He created a wonderful impression." 
 
 "He was found guilty, you say?" interposed Mr. 
 Allison.
 
 280 THE LOYALIST 
 
 "Technically guilty of one charge and imprudent in 
 another," was the deliberate reply. 
 
 "And sentenced?" 
 
 "To receive a reprimand from the Commander-in- 
 chief." 
 
 Mr. Allison assented by a move of his head. 
 
 "How did he take it?" he then asked. "I cannot im- 
 agine his proud nature to yield readily to rebuke." 
 
 The visitor thought for a moment. 
 
 "His face was ashen pale; there was a haggard look 
 upon it; the eyes were marked with deep circles and 
 his step faltered as he turned on his heel and, without 
 a word, made his way from the court room." 
 
 "Were you present at the trial?" Marjorie inquired. 
 
 "Yes, Miss Allison." 
 
 "Was Stephen?" 
 
 "No." The sergeant answered mildly, smiling as he 
 did so. 
 
 Marjorie smiled, too. 
 
 "Tell me," Mr. Allison asked. "Was the evidence 
 conclusive?" 
 
 "The his occupied the court to some length. It 
 was contended that General Arnold had issued the 
 pass with evil intent. The affair of the regiment was 
 referred to in connection with this, but no great stress 
 was brought to bear upon it because of the fear of 
 arousing a possible prejudice in the minds of the court. 
 That fact was introduced solely as a motive." 
 
 Allison shook his head again. 
 
 "It was proved," the sergeant continued, "that the 
 his was a Philadelphia schooner, manned by Phila- 
 delphia men, and engaged in the coastwise trade. The 
 pass itself was introduced as an exhibit, to support the 
 contention that the General, while Military Governor,
 
 THE LOYALIST 281 
 
 had given military permission for the vessel to leave 
 the harbor of Philadelphia for the port of New York, 
 then in possession of the enemy." 
 
 "That was proved?" 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 "Was the Regiment alluded to?" 
 
 "Yes. But at no great length." 
 
 "And the pass?" 
 
 "It was there. The Regiment was the motive for 
 the pass. The affair of the recruiting was scarcely 
 mentioned." 
 
 There was an abrupt silence. 
 
 "What was the next charge?" Mr. Allison asked. 
 
 "That of the wagons." 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "The prosecution made a strong point. Jesse Jor- 
 dan was introduced. Testimony was given by him to 
 the effect that he himself had drawn back a train of 
 twelve wagons loaded with stores from Egg Harbor." 
 
 "Where?" 
 
 "Egg Harbor. Where the traffic between the Brit- 
 ish Army and the Tories of the city was carried on." 
 
 "Was this sustained?" 
 
 "The General denied most of the accusation, but he 
 was found imprudent in his actions. In regard to the 
 other two charges, that of the shops and that of the 
 militia, absolute acquittal was decided. The verdict 
 was announced the following morning and the sentence 
 was published immediately after adjournment." 
 
 "He was sentenced to be reprimanded, you tell me?" 
 
 "Yes. By General Washington." 
 
 "That will break Arnold's heart. He will never 
 endure it."
 
 282 THE LOYALIST 
 
 "Others were obliged to endure it," sounded a soft 
 voice. 
 
 "Yes, I know," replied the father of the girl. "But 
 you do not know General Arnold. Undoubtedly the 
 city has the news." 
 
 "Yes," said the sergeant. "I have told several. All 
 know it ere this." 
 
 II 
 
 And what subject could possibly afford more of 
 concern or consequence to the city folk than the court- 
 martial of General Arnold! Those of the upper class, 
 because of their intimate association with the man; 
 those of the middle class, interested more or less in 
 the great significance attached to the event itself and 
 the influence it would exert upon the future; those of 
 the lower class because of their supreme contempt for 
 the erstwhile Military Governor and the biased man- 
 ner of his administration, all, without exception, found 
 themselves manifesting an uncommon interest in the 
 progress and the issue of the trial. 
 
 It was commonly known that General Arnold had 
 requested a court-martial; but it was not so commonly 
 understood that the matter of his guilt, especially his 
 collusion with the Catholic Regiment and the matter 
 of its transportation, was so intricate or profound. 
 Stephen's speech at the meeting house had given the 
 public the first inkling of the Governor's complicity in 
 the affair; still this offense had been condoned by the 
 many, as usually happens with the crimes of great men 
 who occupy stations of honor, whose misdemeanors 
 are often enshrouded and borne away into oblivion be- 
 neath the veil of expediency and interest of the com-
 
 THE LOYALIST 283 
 
 mon weal. A court-martial would indeed take place; 
 but its verdict would be one of absolute acquittal. 
 
 To hold court at some neutral post was just. No 
 charge of unfairness could then be lodged. Nor could 
 the personnel of the court be regarded as hostile to 
 the accused, for the latter had already raised an objec- 
 tion to its composition which had been sustained and 
 heeded. The charges were dealt with fairly, only four 
 of the eight counts in the original indictment being 
 allowed to come within the jurisdiction of a military 
 tribunal. Even the General was permitted to conduct 
 his own trial and every courtesy and attention was 
 granted him. 
 
 Only two charges bore any evidence of guilt. The 
 pass was issued with deliberate intent. That was 
 proved by the testimony of several witnesses as well as 
 by the introduction of the pass itself. Arnold de- 
 fended himself on the ground that there were no 
 authorities in the city of New York to be offended by 
 the entrance of the vessel, and also the fact that since 
 the Commander-in-chief had lodged no complaint over 
 the alleged offense to his dignity, it was logical to infer 
 that His Excellency took no offense at the order. In 
 regard to the charge of misuse of the government 
 wagons, it was revealed that traffic had been carried 
 on between Egg Harbor and the city of Philadelphia, 
 and that full loads had been delivered to several pri- 
 vate families of the city. Arnold denied any knowl- 
 edge of the destination of these wagons, although he 
 was aware that they were being used. 
 
 His defense, it was learned, consisted of a long plea, 
 in which he rehearsed in detail the leading events of 
 his life. He was fond of alluding to his past and 
 entertained no diffidence whatsoever in regard to his
 
 284 THE LOYALIST 
 
 own abilities. He hoped thereby to impress the court 
 and to intimidate them. 
 
 The charges he denounced as false, malicious, and 
 scandalous, inspired solely by motives of animosity and 
 revenge. He was not accustomed to carry on a war- 
 fare with women, he told the court, nor did he ever 
 bask in the sunshine of any one's favor. Honorable 
 acquittal of all the charges brought against him was 
 pleasantly expected by him and he looked forward to 
 the day when he might share again with his fellow- 
 soldiers the glory and the dangers of the war. 
 
 But he was not acquitted, and the verdict of the 
 court came no less as a surprise to the people of the 
 city and of the nation than to the General himself. 
 The following morning they met to pronounce the ver- 
 dict and they found that on the first charge Major 
 General Arnold had exceeded his rights in giving per- 
 mission for a vessel to leave port without the knowl- 
 edge of the City Authorities or of the Commander-in- 
 chief; and as such he was found to have violated tech- 
 nically Article Five, Section Eighteen of the American 
 Articles of War. The second and third charges were 
 dismissed, but he was found to have been imprudent in 
 his temporary use of the wagons. Because of his guilt 
 on these two counts he was sentenced to receive a repri- 
 mand from His Excellency, the Commander-in-chief. 
 
 He left the court room without a word. 
 
 Ill 
 
 "It is precisely what I fear most," Mr. Allison said. 
 "If he curried less the favor of the public, little or 
 naught would come of it, and the reprimand would end 
 the case. But you know Arnold is a conceited man;
 
 THE LOYALIST 285 
 
 one who carries his head high. Better to deprive him 
 of life itself than to apply vinegar and gall to his 
 parched lips." 
 
 "His return will be hard," Sergeant Griffin ob- 
 served. He, too, knew the character of the man. 
 
 "I doubt if he will return. He has resigned, you 
 know, and may dislike the sight of the city which wit- 
 nessed his misfortune. Still this is his home and a 
 man's heart is in his home regardless of its environ- 
 ment." 
 
 "Do not forget Peggy," Marjorie reminded them. 
 "I know she will never consent to live in the city. I 
 know it. Dear me! The shame of it all would con- 
 fuse her." 
 
 "She might become accustomed to it," replied her 
 father. "All school themselves to the mutations of 
 life." 
 
 "Not Peggy. I know her. She will not forgive. 
 Why, I recall quite vividly the violence of her temper 
 and the terror of her wrath. Her own aunt, with 
 whom she was staying for a brief space, took occasion 
 to reprove her for a slight indiscretion. Peggy re- 
 sented the correction fiercely, and leaving the house at 
 once vowed she never would set foot into it again. 
 That was seven years ago. She has, to my knowledge, 
 never violated that pledge." 
 
 Her father shook his head. 
 
 "I see it all quite clearly," continued Marjorie. 
 "The General will resent the wrong; Peggy will nur- 
 ture a fierce indignation. Whatever thoughts of re- 
 venge will come to his mind she will ably promote. 
 Have a care to her; her wrath will know no mitiga- 
 tion."
 
 286 THE LOYALIST 
 
 "He never expected the verdict," the sergeant re- 
 marked. 
 
 "How did he appear?" asked Mr. Allison. 
 
 "Splendid. As he entered the court he laughed and 
 jested with several officers with all the self-possession 
 of one of the eye-witnesses. Flashes of the old-time 
 energy and courage were manifest at intervals. There 
 was jubilation displayed on his every feature." 
 
 "He was jocose, you say?" 
 
 "Extremely so." 
 
 "Was this before the trial?" 
 
 "Yes. As he entered the Tavern." 
 
 "Was Peggy with him?" 
 
 "No, indeed. It was not permissible for her to 
 enter. She awaited him outside." 
 
 "And yet he maintained his composure throughout." 
 
 "He seemed to take delight in relating the resolu- 
 tions of Congress, its thanks, its gifts, for the many 
 campaigns and the brilliant services rendered his coun- 
 try. His promotions, his horse, his sword, his epaulets 
 and sword-knots, all were recounted and recited enthu- 
 siastically." 
 
 Mr. Allison looked at Marjorie and smiled. 
 
 "Only once did he lose his self-possession. Near 
 the end of his plea he forgot himself and called his 
 accusers a lot of 'women.' This produced a smile 
 throughout the court room ; then he regained his com- 
 posure." 
 
 He paused. 
 
 "That was all?" asked Mr. Allison. 
 
 "I think so. The court adjourned for the day. On 
 the following morning the verdict was announced. I 
 came here direct." 
 
 When he had finished he sat quite still. It was ap-
 
 THE LOYALIST 287 
 
 preaching a late hour and he saw that he had over- 
 stayed his leave. Still the gravity of the occasion 
 required it. 
 
 It was these thoughts regarding the future, far more 
 than any great poignancy of grief respecting General 
 Arnold and his present misfortune, that affected this 
 small group. It seemed to them that the events which 
 had of late happened were not without grave and 
 serious consequence. General Arnold was a man of 
 prominence and renown. To lead such a figure to the 
 bar of justice and to examine and determine there in a 
 definite manner his guilt before the whole world was 
 a solemn piece of business. It meant that the new 
 republic was fearless in its denunciation of wrong; 
 that it was intent upon the exercise of those precepts 
 of justice and equity which were written into the bill 
 of rights, the violation of which by a foreign power 
 had constituted originally a set of true grievances; and 
 that it was actuated by a solemn resolution never to 
 permit within its own borders the commission of any 
 of those wrongs which it had staked its life and con- 
 secrated its purpose as a nation to destroy. General 
 Arnold was a big man, generous in service to his coun- 
 try, honored as one of its foremost sons, but he was 
 no bigger than the institution he was helping to rear. 
 The chastisement inflicted upon him was a reflection 
 upon the state; but it also was a medication for its own 
 internal disorders. 
 
 The fact that the ruling powers of the city were 
 bitterly opposed to the Military Governor was not 
 wholly indicative of the pulse of the people. General 
 Arnold was ever regarded with the highest esteem by 
 the members of the army. A successful leader, a 
 brave soldier, a genial comrade, he was easily the most
 
 288 THE LOYALIST 
 
 beloved general after General Washington. With the 
 citizen body of Philadelphia he was on fairly good 
 terms, popular during the early days of his adminis- 
 tration, although somewhat offensive of late because 
 of his indiscretion and impetuosity. Still he was not 
 without his following, and whereas he had made him- 
 self odious to a great number of people by his manner 
 of life and of command, there were a greater number 
 of people who were ready to condone his faults out 
 of regard for his brilliant services in the past. 
 
 His enemies gloated over his misfortune. Every- 
 body believed that, and it was commonly understood 
 that General Arnold believed it, too. But would he 
 overcome his enemies by retrieving the past and put to 
 shame their vulgar enthusiasm by rising to heights of 
 newer and greater glory? Or would he yield to the 
 more natural propensities of retaliation or despair? 
 A man is no greater than the least of his virtues; but 
 he who has acquired self-control has founded a vir- 
 tuous inheritance. 
 
 With thoughts of this nature were the trio occupied. 
 For several minutes no one spoke. Mr. Allison 
 leaned against the table, his right arm extended along 
 its side, playing with a bodkin that lay within reach; 
 the sergeant sat in silence, watching the face of his 
 entertainer; while Marjorie lolled in her great chair, 
 her eyes downcast, heavy, like two great weights. At 
 length Sergeant Griffin made as if to go. Marjorie 
 arose at once to bid him adieu. 
 
 "You said you came direct?" she reminded him. 
 
 "Yes, Miss Allison." 
 
 "You saw " she hesitated, but quickly added, 
 
 "Captain Meagher?"
 
 THE LOYALIST 289 
 
 She would have said "Stephen" but bethought her- 
 self. 
 
 "No, Miss. Not since the trial." 
 
 "He was not present?" 
 
 "No. He is with His Excellency. Several days ago 
 I saw him and he bade me come here with the report 
 of the finding." 
 
 "That was all?" 
 
 "Yes, Miss." 
 
 "Thank you. We can never repay your kindness." 
 
 "Its performance was my greatest delight." 
 
 "Thank you. Good night !" 
 
 She withdrew into the hall.
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 More sin is attributed to the ruling passion of a 
 man than to the forbidden pleasures of the world, or 
 the violent assaults of the Evil One. Under its dom- 
 ination and tyranny the soul suffers shipwreck and 
 destruction on the rocks of despair and final impeni- 
 tence. It frequently lies buried beneath the most im- 
 perturbable countenance, manifesting itself only at 
 times, often on the occasion of some unusual joy or 
 sadness. It responds to one antidote; but the antidote 
 requires a man of coarse fiber for its self-administra- 
 tion. 
 
 In this respect General Arnold was not a strong 
 man. If he had acted upon himself wholly from with- 
 out, as if he were not himself, and had cultivated a 
 spirit of humility and abnegation of self, together with 
 a considerateness and softness of manner towards 
 those at whose hands he had suffered, he would have 
 stifled his pangs of wounded pride and self-love, and 
 emerged a victor over himself in the contest. He 
 might have recognized his own imperfections to a 
 tolerable degree which would have disinclined him to 
 censoriousness, not to say rashness. By maintaining 
 an evenness of temper and equality of spirits during 
 the days of his sore affliction, he might have recon- 
 sidered his decisions of haste and ultimate disaster, 
 
 290
 
 THE LOYALIST 291 
 
 and be led to the achievement of newer and nobler 
 triumphs. 
 
 But he did not. Instead he gave way at once to a 
 violence of anger which was insurmountable. There 
 was engendered within him feelings of revenge of the 
 most acrid nature. His self-love had been humiliated 
 and crushed before the eyes of a garrulous world. His 
 vanity and his prestige had been ground in the dust. 
 There was no consideration save the determination 
 for an immediate and effectual revenge. 
 
 "Don't worry, my dear," Peggy had whispered to 
 him on the way home. "Try not to think of it." 
 
 "Think of it? ... God! I'll show them. They'll 
 pay for this." 
 
 Apart from that he had not spoken to her during 
 the entire journey. Morose, sullen, brutal, he had 
 nursed his anger until his countenance fairly burned 
 from the tension within. He slammed the door with 
 violence; he tore the epaulets from his shoulders and 
 threw them beyond the bed; he ripped his coat and 
 kicked it across the floor. No ! He would not eat. 
 He wanted to be alone. Alone with himself, alone 
 with his wrath, alone with his designs for revenge. 
 
 "The cowards! And I trusted them." 
 
 He could not understand his guilt. There was no 
 guilt, only the insatiable lust on the part of his enemies 
 for vengeance. The execution came first, then the 
 trial. There was no accusation; he had been con- 
 demned from the start. The public, at whose hands 
 he had long suffered, who reviled and oppressed him 
 with equal vehemence, who had elevated him to the 
 topmost niche of glory, and as promptly crumbled the 
 column beneath his feet and allowed him to crash to 
 the ground, now gloated over their ruined and heart-
 
 292 THE LOYALIST 
 
 broken victim with outrageous jubilation. They were 
 on destruction bent, and he the victim of their stupid 
 spite. 
 
 If he could not understand his culpability, neither 
 could he apprehend fully and vividly the meaning of 
 his sentence. To be reprimanded by the Commander- 
 in-chief! Better to be found guilty by the court and 
 inflicted with the usual military discipline. His great 
 sense of pride could not, would not suffer him to be 
 thus humiliated at the hands of him from whom he 
 had previously been rewarded with so many favors, 
 and in whom he had lodged his most complete esteem 
 and veneration. He could not endure it, that was all; 
 and what was more he would not. 
 
 He decided to leave the city forever. Then the 
 howl of contumely could not pursue him ; it would grow 
 faint with the distance. He was no longer Military 
 Governor, and never would he reassume that thankless 
 burden. He would retire to private life far removed 
 from the savage envy of these aspiring charlatans. 
 Unhappy memories and wretched degradation would 
 close his unhappy days and shroud his name with an 
 unmerited and unjust obloquy. 
 
 His wife had been correct in her prognostications. 
 The court, like the public mind, which it only feebly 
 reflected, had been prejudiced against him from the 
 start. The disgust which he entertained of the French 
 Alliance was only intensified the more by the recent 
 proceedings of Congress, and perhaps he might listen 
 more attentively now to her persuasions to go over to' 
 the British side. He would be indemnified, of course; 
 but it was revenge he was seeking, on which account 
 he would not become an ordinary deserter. He had 
 been accustomed to playing heroic roles, and he would
 
 THE LOYALIST 293 
 
 not become a mere villain now at this important junc- 
 ture. This blundering Congress would be over- 
 whelmed by the part he would play in his new career, 
 and he would carry back in triumph his country to its 
 old allegiance. 
 
 Gradually his anger resolved itself into vindictive 
 machination, which grew in intensity as it occupied him 
 the more. He might obtain the command of the right 
 wing of the American army, and at one stroke accom- 
 plish what George Monk had achieved for Charles the 
 Second. It was not so heinous a crime to change sides 
 in a civil war, and history has been known to reward 
 the memory of those who performed such daring and 
 desperate exploits. His country will have benefited by 
 his signal effort, and his enemies routed at the same 
 time in the shame of their own confusion. He would 
 open negotiations with Sir Henry Clinton over an as- 
 sumed name to test the value of his proposals. 
 
 "They'll pay me before I am through. I shall en- 
 dure in history, with the Dukes of Albemarle and 
 Marlborough." 
 
 As he mused over the condition of affairs and the 
 possibilities of the situation, he wandered into the 
 great room, where he saw two letters lying on the 
 center table. Picking them up, he saw that one was 
 addressed to Mrs. Arnold, the other to himself. He 
 tore open his letter and read the signature. It bore 
 the name of John Anderson. 
 
 II 
 
 The writer went on to say that he had arrived in 
 safety in the city of New York, after a hurried and 
 forced departure from Philadelphia. The meeting
 
 294 THE LOYALIST 
 
 was terminated in a tumult because of the deliberate 
 and fortunate appeal of an awkward mountebank, who 
 was possessed with a fund of information which was 
 fed to the crowd both skillfully and methodically; and 
 by the successful coupling of the name of General 
 Arnold with the proposed plot, had overwhelmed the 
 minds of the assembly completely. 
 
 He revealed the fact that the members of the court 
 had already bound themselves in honor to prefer 
 charges against General Arnold in order that the 
 powerful Commonwealth of Pennsylvania might be 
 placated. He did not know the result of the trial, but 
 predicted that there would be but one verdict and that 
 utterly regardless of the evidence. 
 
 "Hm!" muttered Arnold to himself. 
 
 The British Government, he added, was already in 
 communication with the American Generals, with the 
 exception of Washington, and was desirous of opening 
 correspondence with General Arnold. Every one knew 
 that he was the bravest and the most deserving of the 
 American leaders and should be the Second in Com- 
 mand of the rebel forces. The British knew, too, of 
 the indignities which had been heaped upon him by an 
 unappreciative and suspicious people, and they recom- 
 mended that some heroic deed be performed by him in 
 the hope of bringing this unnecessary and bloody con- 
 test to a close. 
 
 Seven thousand pounds would be offered at once, 
 together with an equal command, in the army of His 
 Majesty, and with a peerage in the realm. In return 
 he would be asked to exert his influence in favor of an 
 amicable adjustment of the difficulties between the 
 colonies and the mother country. General Clinton was 
 ready to begin negotiations after the advice and under
 
 THE LOYALIST 295 
 
 the conditions proposed by General Arnold, which 
 might be interchanged by means of a correspondence 
 maintained with a certain ambiguity. 
 
 "Egad!" He set his lips; then he turned to the 
 beginning of the paragraph. The offer was interest- 
 ing. 
 
 Anderson then went on to relate what already had 
 been suggested to him during the night of their con- 
 versation in the park at his magnificent home, the 
 exigencies of the country, the opportunity for a master 
 stroke at the hands of a courageous man, who would 
 unite His Majesty's people under a common banner, 
 and who might command thereby the highest honors 
 of life. 
 
 He reminded him that it was possible to obtain a 
 command of the right wing of the American Army, a 
 post only commensurate with his ability, which com- 
 mand might be turned against the rebel forces in the 
 hope that an immediate end might be made of the 
 fratricidal war. There would be no humiliating peace 
 terms. There would be no indemnities, no reprisals, 
 no annexations nor disavowals. The principles for 
 which the colonists contended would be granted, with 
 the sole exception of complete independence. They 
 would have their own Parliament; they would be re- 
 sponsible for their own laws, their own taxes, their 
 own trade. It would be a consummation devoutly 
 desired by both parties, and the highest reward and 
 honor awaited the American General who bound him- 
 self to the effectual realization of these views. 
 
 "Announce your defection, return to the royal cause, 
 agree to the terms which His Majesty's peace commis- 
 sioners will make, and earn the everlasting gratitude 
 of your countrymen, like Monk and Churchill."
 
 296 THE LOYALIST 
 
 So the letter concluded with the humble respects 
 and obediences of John Anderson. Arnold did not 
 fold it, but continued to stare at it for several minutes, 
 as if trying to decide upon some definite course of 
 action in regard to it. At length he arose and limped 
 to the desk, and, drawing out from its small drawer 
 several sheets of paper, began his reply. 
 
 But he did not conclude it. Hearing footfalls in the 
 hallway, he hastily folded the several papers, Ander- 
 son's letter included, and stuck them into his breast 
 pocket. He sat motionless, with the pen poised in his 
 hand, as Peggy entered. 
 
 Ill 
 
 "You here?" she asked. 
 
 He did not reply, nor make any movement. 
 
 "Another resignation? or applying for a new com- 
 mand?" 
 
 He now turned full about and faced her. 
 
 "No. I was just thinking." 
 
 "Of what?" 
 
 She stood before him, her arms akimbo. 
 
 "Of many things. First of all we must leave here." 
 
 "When?" 
 
 "I don't know." 
 
 "Well then, where?" 
 
 "To New York." 
 
 "Do you mean it?" 
 
 Now she sat down, pulling a chair near to him in 
 order that she might converse the more readily. 
 
 "I am thinking of writing for a new command in 
 the army." 
 
 He thought best not to tell her of his original pur-
 
 THE LOYALIST 297 
 
 pose in writing, nor of the letter which he had re- 
 ceived from Anderson. Whatever foul schemes he 
 may have concocted, he did not desire to acquaint her 
 with their full nature. Enough for her to know that 
 he intended to defect without her being a party to the 
 plot. 
 
 "Did I interrupt you? Pardon me!" she made as 
 if to go. 
 
 "Stay. That can wait. You were right. They 
 were against me." 
 
 "I felt it all the time. You know yourself how 
 they despise you." 
 
 "But I never thought " 
 
 "What?" was the interruption. "You never 
 thought? You did, but you were not man enough to 
 realize it. Reed would stop at nothing, and if the 
 colonists gain complete independence, the Catholic 
 population will give you no peace. That you already 
 know. You have persecuted them." 
 
 "What are they? A bare twenty or twenty-five 
 thousand out of a population of, let us say, three 
 million." 
 
 "No matter. They will grow strong after the war. 
 Unfortunately they have stuck true to the cause." 
 
 "Bah! I despise them. It is the others, the Con- 
 gress, Lincoln, Gates, Lee, Wayne. They will acquire 
 the honors. Washington will be king." 
 
 "And you?" 
 
 "I'm going to change my post." 
 
 She smiled complacently, and folded her arms. 
 
 "Under Washington?" 
 
 She knew better, but she made no attempt to conceal 
 her feigned simplicity. 
 
 He looked at her without comment.
 
 298 THE LOYALIST 
 
 Whether he shrunk from unfolding to her the sick- 
 ening details of his despicable plan, or whether he 
 judged it sufficient for her to know only the foul begin- 
 nings of his treason without being initiated into its 
 wretched consummation; whether it was due to any of 
 these reasons or simply to plain indifference or per- 
 haps to both, he became unusually silent on this subject 
 from this moment onward. It was enough for her to 
 realize that he had been shabbily treated by the Con- 
 gress and by the people, that he had long considered 
 the American cause hopeless and had abandoned his 
 interest in it on account of the recent alliance with the 
 government of France. In her eyes he thought it 
 would be heroic for him to resign his command, and 
 even to defect to the side of the enemy on these 
 grounds, on the strength of steadfastly adhering to 
 his ancient principles. He knew well that she had 
 counseled such a step and was enthusiastic in urging its 
 completion, nevertheless he sensed that the enormity 
 and the depravity of his base design was too revolt- 
 ing, too shocking, for even her ears. He would not 
 even acquaint her with Anderson's letter nor with the 
 purpose he had of concurring with the proposition it 
 contained. 
 
 "Did you receive a letter from Anderson?" she 
 asked suddenly. 
 
 "Yes. He wrote to inform me that he had escaped 
 in safety and is now in New York." 
 
 "No more?" 
 
 "No. He did comment on the frustration of the 
 plot, and expressed a desire to learn the identity of 
 the disturber." 
 
 "You will tell him?" 
 
 "Later. Not now."
 
 THE LOYALIST 299 
 
 There was a pause. 
 
 "Do you intend to take active part in the coming 
 campaigns? You know your leg will prevent you from 
 leading a strenuous life in the field. Why not ask for 
 some other post, or retire to private life? I want to 
 get out of this city." 
 
 "I am about to write for a new command. I have 
 one friend left in the person of His Excellency, and 
 he will not leave me 'naked to mine enemies,' as the 
 great Wolsey once said." 
 
 "But he is to reprimand you," she reminded him. 
 
 "No matter. That is his duty. I blame the people 
 and the court which was enslaved to them for my 
 humiliation. They shall pay for it, however." 
 
 "Let us leave together. Announce your desire of 
 joining arms with the British and let us set out at once 
 for New York. Mr. Anderson will take care of the 
 details. You know his address?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "You have fought the war alone; end it alone. Set- 
 tle your claims with the government and let us sell our 
 house." 
 
 "Our house ? This is yours, Margaret, and, by God, 
 they shall not deprive you of it. No! We will not 
 sell our house. This is yours for life, and our chil- 
 dren's." 
 
 "Well, we can rent it for the present. For, if you 
 go, I am going, too." 
 
 "Very well. We shall see what the future holds out 
 for us. Give me that stool." 
 
 He pointed to the small chair over against her. She 
 arose at once and set it before him. He placed his 
 foot upon it. 
 
 "When I think of what I have done for them and
 
 300 THE LOYALIST 
 
 then compare their gratitude. Congress must owe me 
 at least six or seven thousand pounds, not to mention 
 my life's blood which never can be replaced. I have 
 been a fool, a fool who does not know his own mind." 
 
 "Didn't I predict what the outcome would be? I 
 felt this from the moment Anderson left. And what 
 were you charged with? A technical violation of the 
 code of war. There was no actual guilt nor any evi- 
 dence in support of the charge. Were the least shadow 
 of a fault in evidence, you may be assured that it would 
 have been readily found. You were innocent of the 
 charge. But you were technically guilty that they 
 might plead excuse for their hate." 
 
 "I know it, girl ... I know it ... I see it all 
 now. I tried hard to disbelieve it." He seemed sad, 
 as he muttered his reply and slowly shook his head. 
 
 He was still for a moment and then sat suddenly 
 upright. 
 
 "But by the living God!" It was surprising how 
 quickly he could pass from mood to mood. Now the 
 old-time fire gleamed in his eyes. Now the unre- 
 strained, impetuous, passionate General, the intrepid, 
 fearless leader of Quebec, Ridgefield, Saratoga, re- 
 vealed himself with all his old-time energy and deter- 
 mination of purpose. 
 
 "By the living God!" he repeated with his hand 
 high in the air, his fist clenched, "They shall pay me 
 double for every humiliation, for every calumny, for 
 every insult I have had to endure. They sought cause 1 
 against me; they shall find it." 
 
 "Hush! My dear," cautioned Peggy, "not so loud. 
 The servants will overhear you." 
 
 "The world shall overhear me before another 
 month. Revenge knows no limit and is a sweet con-
 
 THE LOYALIST 301 
 
 solation to a brave man. I shall shame this profligate 
 Congress, and overwhelm my enemies with no mean 
 accomplishment, but with an achievement worthy of 
 my dignity and power. They shall pay me. Ha ! they 
 shall; by God! They shall." 
 
 Peggy arose at his violent outbreak, fearing lest she 
 might antagonize him the more. It was useless to talk 
 further, for he was enraged to a point beyond all 
 endurance. She would leave him alone, hoping that 
 he would recover his normal state again. 
 
 She walked to the window as if to look out. Then 
 she turned and vanished through the doorway into the 
 hall. 
 
 IV 
 
 Several days later a courier rode up to the door and 
 summoned General Arnold before him, into whose 
 care he delivered a letter from the Headquarters of 
 the Commander-in-chief. Strangely excited, the Gen- 
 eral failed to perceive the identity of the messenger 
 as he saluted and made the usual brief inquiries. Only 
 after the courier was well down the road did the mem- 
 ory of his strangely familiar face recur to him. But 
 he was too preoccupied with the document to give him 
 any more attention. Breaking the seal he scanned the 
 introductory addresses and read his reprimand from 
 his Commander-in-chief, a reprimand couched in the 
 tenderest language, a duty performed with the rarest 
 delicacy and tact. 
 
 a Our profession is the chastest of all," it read. 
 "Even the shadow of a fault tarnishes the luster of 
 our finest achievements. The least inadvertence may 
 rob us of the public favor so hard to be acquired. I
 
 302 THE LOYALIST 
 
 reprimand you for having forgotten that, in propor- 
 tion as you have rendered yourself formidable to our 
 enemies, you should have been guarded and temperate 
 in your deportment towards your fellow citizens. Ex- 
 hibit anew those noble qualities which have placed you 
 on the list of our most valued commanders. I myself 
 will furnish you, as far as it may be in my power, with 
 opportunities of regaining the esteem of your country." 
 Slipping it again into its envelope, he slammed the 
 door.
 
 PART THREE
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 In one of those wide indentations along the eastern 
 shore of the Schuylkill River, there opens out in tran- 
 quil seclusion a spacious cove. The waters wander here 
 to rest, it seems, before resuming their voluminous 
 descent to the Delaware and the sea. Trees and sap- 
 lings wrapped about with close-clinging vines hang far 
 over the water's edge like so many silent sentinels on 
 guard before the spot, their luxuriant foliage weighing 
 their bending twigs almost to the surface. Green lily- 
 pads and long ribboned water grass border the water's 
 curve, and toss gently in the wind ripples as they glide 
 inwards with just murmur enough to lull one to quiet 
 and repose. 
 
 Into this scene, placid, clear, though of a deep and 
 dark green under the overhanging leaves, stole a small 
 canoe with motion enough scarcely to ruffle the top of 
 the water. A paddle noiselessly dipped into the un- 
 disturbed surface and as noiselessly emerged again, 
 leaving behind only a series of miniature eddies where 
 the waters had closed after their penetration. A small 
 white hand, hanging lazily over the forward side of 
 the tiny craft, played in the soft, limpid water, and 
 made a furrow along the side of the boat that glistened 
 like so many strings of sparkling jewels. 
 
 305
 
 306 THE LOYALIST 
 
 "So you are going away again tomorrow?" Mar- 
 jorie was saying as she continued to dabble in the 
 water. 
 
 She lay partly reclining in the bow of the canoe, her 
 back supported by a pillow. A meditative silence en- 
 shrouded her as she lay listless, unconcerned to all 
 appearances, as to her whereabouts or destination. 
 The while she thought, the more steadily she gazed at 
 the waters as she splashed them gently and playfully. 
 Like a caress the silence of the place descended upon 
 her, and brought home to her the full import of her 
 loneliness. 
 
 "In view of what you have disclosed to me, I think 
 it only my duty," Stephen replied as he lazily stroked 
 the paddle. 
 
 Again there was silence. 
 
 "I wish you weren't going," she finally murmured. 
 
 He looked straight at her, holding his arm motion- 
 less for the space of a moment. 
 
 "It is good of you to say that," was the measured 
 reply. "This has been a most delightful day, and I 
 have enjoyed this glimpse of you very much." 
 
 Raising her eyes she thanked him with a look. 
 
 "You must remember that it has been due to no 
 fault of mine that I have seen so little of you," he 
 continued. 
 
 "Nor mine," came back the whisper. 
 
 "True," he said. "Events have moved so rapidly 
 during the past month that I was enabled to keep 
 abreast of them only with the greatest difficulty." 
 
 "I daresay we all are proud of your achievement." 
 
 "God has been good to us. I must thank you, too." 
 
 "Me?" She grinned with contempt. "I am sure
 
 THE LOYALIST 307 
 
 when the truth is known that I shall be found more an 
 instrument of evil than of good." 
 
 "I wish you would not say that." 
 
 "I cannot say otherwise, for I know it to be true." 
 
 "Do not depreciate your efforts. They have been 
 invaluable to me. Remember, it was you who greatly 
 confirmed my suspicions of Anderson. I did acquire 
 some facts myself; but it was due to the information 
 which you imparted to me that I was enabled to join 
 together several ambiguous clews." 
 
 "Really?" 
 
 "And you must remember that it was through your 
 cooperation that my attention was first drawn to Gen- 
 eral Arnold." 
 
 "You suspected him before our conversation. You, 
 yourself, heard it from his own lips in the garden." 
 
 "Yes, I did. But the note!" 
 
 "What note?" 
 
 "The note you gave me to read." 
 
 "Peggy's letter which I found at her house?'* 
 
 "The same. Have I never told you?" 
 
 "Never!" was the slow response. "You know you 
 returned it to me without comment." 
 
 He was puzzled. For he wondered how he had 
 failed to acquaint her with so important an item. 
 
 "When you allowed me to take that letter you fur- 
 nished me with my first clew." 
 
 She aroused herself and looked seriously at him. 
 
 "I? ... Why ... I never read it. What did it 
 contain? I had supposed it to be a personal letter." 
 
 "And so it was, apparently. It proved to be a 
 letter from one of Peggy's New York friends." 
 
 "A Mischienza friend, undoubtedly."
 
 3 o8 THE LOYALIST 
 
 "Yes, Captain Cathcart. But it contained more. 
 There was a cipher message." 
 
 "In cipher?" Then after a moment. "Did she 
 know of it?" 
 
 "I am inclined to think that she did. Otherwise it 
 would not have been directed to her." 
 
 This was news indeed. No longer did she recline 
 against the seat of the canoe, but raised herself up- 
 right. 
 
 "How did you ever discover it?" 
 
 "My first reading of the note filled me with sus- 
 picion. Its tone was too impersonal. When I asked 
 for it, I was impelled by the sole desire to study it the 
 more carefully at my own leisure. That night I found 
 certain markings over some of the letters. These I 
 jotted down and rearranged until I had found the 
 hidden message." 
 
 She gazed at him in wonder. 
 
 "It was directed to her, I presume, because of her 
 friendship with the Military Governor; and carried 
 the suggestion that His Excellency be interested in the 
 proposed formation of the Regiment. From that mo- 
 ment my energies were directed to one sole end. I 
 watched Arnold and those whom he was wont to 
 entertain. Eventually the trail narrowed down to 
 Peggy and Anderson." 
 
 She drew a deep breath, but said nothing. 
 
 "The night I played the spy in the park my theory 
 was confirmed." 
 
 "Yes, you told me of that incident. It was not far 
 from here." 
 
 She turned to search the distance behind her. 
 
 "No. Just down the shore behind his great house."
 
 THE LOYALIST 309 
 
 He pointed with his finger in the direction of Mount 
 Pleasant. 
 
 "And Peggy was a party to the conspiracy!" she 
 exclaimed with an audible sigh. 
 
 "She exercised her influence over Arnold from the 
 start. She and Anderson were in perfect accord." 
 
 "I am sorry. She has disappointed me greatly." 
 
 "She has a very pretty manner and a most winsome 
 expression ; but she is extremely subtle and fully accom- 
 plished in all manner of artifice. She was far too 
 clever for your frank simplicity." 
 
 "I never suspected her for aq instant." 
 
 "It was she who set the trap for Arnold; it was she 
 who made it possible for Anderson to rise to the 
 heights of favor and influence; it was she who encour- 
 aged her husband in his misuse of authority; and I 
 venture to say, it was she who rendered effective the 
 degree of friendship which began to exist between 
 yourself and this gentleman." 
 
 Marjorie blushed at the irony. 
 
 They were drifting above the cove in the slowest 
 manner. Only occasionally did he dip the paddle into 
 the water to change the course of the little craft, or 
 to push it ahead a little into the more shaded places. 
 Marjorie did not assist in this, for he desired her to 
 sit in the bow facing him, while he, himself, essayed 
 the task of paddler. There was little of exertion, how- 
 ever, for the two had no other object in view than the 
 company of their own selves. And so they drifted 
 aimlessly about the stream. 
 
 "Yes, I think that I ought to leave tomorrow for 
 White Plains to confer with His Excellency." 
 
 "I should be the last to hinder you in the perform- 
 ance of duty. By all means, go."
 
 3 io THE LOYALIST 
 
 "Of course it may be no more than a suspicion, but 
 if you are sure of what Anderson said, then I think 
 that the matter should be brought to the attention of 
 the Commander-in-chief." 
 
 "Of course, you understand that Mr. Anderson told 
 me nothing definite. But he did hint that General 
 Arnold should be placed in command of a more respon- 
 sible post in the American army; and that steps should 
 be taken to have him promoted to the Second in Com- 
 mand." 
 
 Stephen thought for a minute. 
 
 "That sounds innocent enough. But you must re- 
 member that events have come to light in the past 
 fortnight which for months had lain concealed in the 
 minds of these two men. Who knows but 'what this 
 was included in their nefarious scheme. I am uneasy 
 about it all, and must see the chief." 
 
 "But you will come back?" 
 
 "At once unless prevented by a detail to a new field. 
 I am subject at all times to the will of my leader." 
 
 Her face fell. 
 
 II 
 
 The solemn stillness, the almost noiseless motion of 
 the boat, the livid shades surrounding the place, all 
 contributed to the mood of pensiveness and meditation 
 which was rapidly stealing upon them. The very 
 silence of the cove was infectious. Marjorie felt it 
 almost immediately, and relaxed without a murmur. 
 
 A stream of thoughts began to course in continuous 
 procession through her mind, awakening there what- 
 ever latent images lay buried in her memory, and 
 fashioning new ideas and seemingly possible situations
 
 THE LOYALIST 311 
 
 from her experiences of the past year. Now she sud- 
 denly discovered her former interest quickened to a 
 violent degree. She was living over again the mem- 
 ories of the happy hours of other days. 
 
 Certainly Stephen was as constant as ever. To her 
 discerning eye his manner of action conveyed no other 
 impression. But he was the same enigma, however, as 
 far as the communication of thought was concerned, 
 and she knew no more of his pleasures and desires 
 than she did of the inspirations of his soul. 
 
 It was the first time in months she had seen and 
 taken delight in his own old self. Never had he been 
 so attentive quite as John Anderson, nor so profuse in 
 his protestations, nor so ready with his apologies. And 
 what was more she did not expect him to be. But he 
 was more sincere when it came to a question of un- 
 folding one's own convictions, more engaging where 
 will-power, propriety, performance of duty, were con- 
 cerned. He alone possessed the rule to which all, in 
 her own mind, were obliged to conform. And so she 
 was compelled to admire him. 
 
 These fond memories suffered an interruption by a 
 vision of the extreme disquietude produced upon Ste- 
 phen by her unfortunate acquaintanceship with Mr. 
 Anderson. And yet she had been profoundly sincere 
 with herself. Never had she conveyed the impression 
 to any man that she had given him a second sobering 
 thought. Her home constituted for her a chief de- 
 light, her home, her devoted mother, her fond father. 
 Peggy had been her sole companion previous to her 
 marriage with the Governor; and whatever men she 
 had met with were they who composed the gay assem- 
 blies at which her friend was the pretty hostess and she 
 the invited guest. As far as Anderson was concerned,
 
 3 i2 THE LOYALIST 
 
 and Stephen, for that matter, she doubted if she had 
 been in the company of either more than a dozen times 
 in the course of her life. Certainly not enough to know 
 either of them intimately. 
 
 Of the two men who had effected the most complete 
 entree into her society, Stephen had, unquestionably, 
 impressed her the more favorably. For a time he 
 seemed too far removed from her; and she failed to 
 experience that sense of proportion between them so 
 necessary for mutual regard. Perhaps it was due to 
 this negation^ or perhaps it was owing to her modest 
 reserve, or perhaps to both, that whatever familiar 
 intercourse, sympathy or affinity ought to have existed 
 was naturally excluded. True friendship requires a 
 certain equality, or at least a feeling of proportion 
 between those whom it would bind together. And 
 this she felt had not prevailed. 
 
 She did not pause to consider the correctness or the 
 incorrectness of her inference. It was quite enough 
 for her to know that this spirit of inequality existed. 
 In his presence, however, she felt at perfect ease, 
 wholly oblivious of everything save her own happiness, 
 as she could now bear witness to, but alone with her 
 thoughts the horrible imagining forced itself upon her 
 and served to widen perceptibly the gulf between them. 
 Reflection disconcerted her. 
 
 Happily, her enterprise respecting Anderson and his 
 nefarious scheme had terminated successfully. Hap- 
 pily, too, Stephen's misconstruction of the affair had 
 been corrected. No longer would he doubt her. Their 
 fortunes had approached the crisis. It came. Ander- 
 son had fled town; Arnold and Peggy were removed 
 from their lives perhaps for ever. Stephen was with 
 her now and she experienced a sense of happiness be-
 
 THE LOYALIST 313 
 
 yond all human estimation. She would she could read 
 his mind to learn there his own feelings. Was he, too, 
 conscious of the same delights? A reciprocal feeling 
 was alone necessary to complete the measure of her 
 joy. But he was as non-communicative as ever, totally 
 absorbed in this terrible business that obsessed him. 
 Her riddle, she feared, would remain unanswered. 
 Patriotism, it seemed, was more pressing than love. 
 
 The canoe had drifted nearer to the shore. At 
 Stephen's suggestion she aroused herself from her 
 lethargy and alighted on the bank. He soon followed, 
 drawing the canoe on to the shore a little to prevent 
 its wandering away. Marjorie walked through the 
 grass, stooping to pick here and there a little flower 
 which lay smiling at her feet. Stephen stood to one 
 side and looked after her. 
 
 ill 
 
 "Stephen," she asked, as she returned to him and 
 stood for a moment smiling straight at him, "will you 
 tell me something?" 
 
 "Anything you ask," he assured her. "What do 
 you wish to know?" 
 
 But she did not inquire further. Her eyes were 
 fixed in earnest attention upon the flowers which she 
 began to arrange into a little bouquet. 
 
 "Are you still vexed with me?" 
 
 There! It was out. She looked at him coquet- 
 tishly. 
 
 "Marjorie !" he exclaimed, "What ever caused you 
 to say that?"
 
 3 i4 THE LOYALIST 
 
 "I scarce know," she replied. "I suppose I just 
 thought so, that was all." 
 
 "Would I be here now?" He tried to assure her 
 with a tone of sincerity. "One need not hear a man 
 speak to learn his mind." 
 
 "Yes. But I thought " 
 
 He seized hold of her hand. 
 
 "Come," he said. "Won't you sit down while I tell 
 you?" 
 
 She accepted his offer and allowed herself to be 
 assisted. 
 
 "You thought that I was displeased with you on 
 account of John Anderson," he remarked as he took 
 his place by her side. "Am I correct?" 
 
 She did not answer. 
 
 "And you thought, perhaps, that I scorned you?" 
 
 "Oh, no! Not that! I did not think that . . . 
 I ... I ..." 
 
 "Well, then, that I lost all interest in you?" 
 
 She thought for a second. Then she smiled as if 
 she dared not say what was in her mind. 
 
 "Listen. I shall tell you. I did not reprove you 
 with so much as a fault. I know well that it is next 
 to impossible to be in the frequent presence of an indi- 
 vidual without experiencing at some time some emo- 
 tion. He becomes continually repugnant, or else 
 exceedingly fascinating. The sentiments of the heart 
 never stand still." 
 
 "Yes, I know, but . . ." 
 
 "I did think that you had been fascinated. I con- 
 cluded that you had been charmed by John Andersen's 
 manner. Because I had no desire of losing your good 
 will, I did ask you to avoid him, but at the same time, 
 I did not feel free enough to cast aspersions upon his
 
 THE LOYALIST 315 
 
 character and so change your good opinion of him. 
 The outcome I never doubted, much as I was disturbed 
 over the whole affair. I felt that eventually you would 
 learn for yourself." 
 
 "But why did you not believe in me? I tried to give 
 you every assurance that I was loyal. . . ." 
 
 "The fault lay in my enforced absence from you, and 
 in the nature of the circumstances which combined 
 against you. I knew Anderson; but I was unaware 
 of your own thought or purpose. My business led me 
 on one occasion to your home where I found you ready 
 to entertain him. The several other times in which 
 I found you together caused me to think that you, too, 
 had been impressed by him." 
 
 Marjorie sat silent. She was pondering deeply the 
 while he spoke and attempted to understand the emo- 
 tions that had fought in his heart. She knew very 
 well that he was sincere in his confession, and that she 
 had been the victim of circumstances; still she thanked 
 God that the truth had been revealed to him. 
 
 "Sometimes I feel as if I had been simply a tool in 
 his hands, and that I had been worsted in the en- 
 counter." 
 
 "You have had no reason to think that. You per- 
 haps unconsciously gave him some information concern- 
 ing the members of our faith, their number, their lot, 
 their ambitions, but you must remember, too, that he 
 had given some valuable information to you in return. 
 The man may have been sincere with you from the 
 beginning." 
 
 "No ! I think neither of us were sincere. The mem- 
 ory of it all is painful; and I regret exceedingly of 
 having had to play the part of the coquette." 
 
 A great silence stole upon them. He looked out
 
 3 i6 THE LOYALIST 
 
 over the river at the wavelets dancing gleefully in the 
 sunlight, as they ran downstream with the current as if 
 anxious to outstrip it to the sea. She grew tired of the 
 little flowers and looked about to gather others. Pres- 
 ently she bethought herself and took from her bodice 
 what appeared to be a golden locket. Stephen, at- 
 tracted by her emotion, saw the trinket at once, its 
 bright yellow frame glistening in the sun. 
 
 "Have you ever seen this?" she asked as she looked 
 at it intently. 
 
 He extended his hand in anticipation. She gave it 
 to him. 
 
 "Beautiful!" he exclaimed. "How long have you 
 had this?" 
 
 "About a year," she replied nonchalantly, and 
 clasped her hands about her knees. 
 
 He leaned forward and continued to study it for the 
 longest time. He held it near to him and then at arm's 
 length. Then he looked at her. 
 
 "It is beautiful," he repeated. "It is a wonderful 
 likeness, and yet I should say that it does not half 
 express the winsomeness of your countenance." He 
 smiled generously at her blushes as he returned it 
 to her. 
 
 "It was given me by John Anderson," she declared. 
 
 "It is a treasure. And it is richly set." 
 
 "He painted it himself and brought it to me after 
 that night at Peggy's." 
 
 "I always said that he possessed extraordinary 
 talents. I should keep that as a commemoration of 
 your daring enterprise." 
 
 "Never. I purpose to destroy all memory of him." 
 
 "You have lost nothing, and have gained what books
 
 THE LOYALIST 317 
 
 cannot unfold. Observation and experience are the 
 prime educators." 
 
 "But exceedingly severe." 
 
 "Come," said Stephen. "Let us not allude to him 
 again. It grieves you. He has passed from your life 
 forever." 
 
 "Forever!" she repeated. 
 
 And as if by a mighty effort she drew back her arm 
 and flung the miniature far from her in the direction 
 of the river. On a sudden there was a splash, a gulp 
 of the waters, and a little commotion as they hurriedly 
 came together and folded over their prey. 
 
 "Marjorie!" he shouted making an attempt to re- 
 strain her. It was too late. 
 
 "What have you done?" he asked. 
 
 She displayed her empty hands and laughed. 
 
 "Forever!" she repeated, opening her arms with a 
 telling gesture. "I never should have accepted it, but 
 I was strangely fascinated by it, I suppose." 
 
 For the moment neither spoke ; he felt as if he could 
 not speak; and she looked like a child, her cheeks 
 aglow with the exertion, and her eyes alight with merri- 
 ment. Stephen looked intently at her and as she per- 
 ceived his look, a very curious change came across her 
 face. He saw it at once, although he did not think of 
 it until afterwards. 
 
 "Marjorie," he said as he moved nearer to her and 
 slipped his arm very gently about her. "You must 
 have known for the longest time, from my actions, 
 from my incessant attentions, from my words, the ex- 
 tent of my feeling for you. It were idle of me to 
 attempt to give expression to it. It cannot be explained. 
 It must be perceived; and you, undoubtedly, have per- 
 ceived it."
 
 3 i8 THE LOYALIST 
 
 There was no response. She remained passive, her 
 eyes on the ground, scarcely realizing what he was 
 saying. 
 
 "I think you know what I am going to say. I am 
 very fond of you. But you must have felt more; some 
 hidden voice must have whispered often to you that I 
 love you." 
 
 He drew her to him and raised both her hands to 
 his lips. 
 
 She remonstrated. 
 
 "Stephen!" she said. 
 
 He drew back sadly. She became silent, her head 
 lowered, her eyes downcast, intent upon the hands in 
 her lap. With her fingers she rubbed away the caress. 
 She was thinking rapidly, yet her face betrayed no 
 visible emotion, whether of joy, or surprise, or resent- 
 ment. Only her cheek danced with a ray of sunshine, 
 a stolen reflection from the joyous waves. 
 
 "Marjorie," he said gently, "please forgive me. I 
 meant no harm." 
 
 She made a little movement as if to speak. 
 
 "I had to tell you," he continued. "I thought you 
 understood." 
 
 She buried her face in her hands; her frame shook 
 violently. Stephen was confused a little; for he 
 thought that she had taken offense. He attempted to 
 reassure her. 
 
 "Marjorie. Please ... I give you my word I shall 
 never mention this subject again. I am sorry, very 
 sorry." 
 
 She dried her eyes and looked at her handkerchief. 
 Then she stood up. 
 
 "Come, let us go," he said after he had assisted her. 
 
 They walked together towards the boat.
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 It has been said with more truth than poetic fancy 
 that the descent to Avernus is easy. It may be said, 
 too, with equal assurance, that once General Arnold 
 had committed himself to treachery and perfidy, his 
 story becomes sickening, and in the judgment of his 
 countrymen, devoid of no element of horror whether 
 in its foul beginnings or in its wretched end. Once 
 his mind had been definitely committed to the treach- 
 erous purpose, which loomed like a beacon light before 
 him in the shaping of his destiny, his descent to the 
 depths of degradation was rapid and fatal. The court-, 
 martial, together with its subsequent reprimand, had 
 been accepted by him with the greatest animosity. 
 From that hour his thirst for vengeance knew no re- 
 straint. One thing alone was necessary to his evil 
 plans: he must secure an important command in the 
 Continental Army. 
 
 Some time before he had asked for a change of 
 post, or at least for a grant of land with permission to 
 retire to private life, but this was under the inspiration 
 of a motive of an entirely different nature. Now he 
 had specifically asked for a command in the army, 
 adding that his leg was quite healed and that he was 
 fit physically for field duty. In entering this demand, 
 he was actuated by a different motive the motive of 
 
 319
 
 320 THE LOYALIST 
 
 George Monk, the Duke of Albemarle, the com- 
 mander-in-chief of the forces of three kingdoms. 
 
 It is true that Washington had been devoted to him 
 and remained faithful to him until the very end. To 
 reprimand his favorite General was a painful duty. 
 But it was performed with delicate and genuine tender- 
 ness. His Excellency had promised to do whatever lay 
 within his power to enable his beloved General to re- 
 cover the esteem of his fellow-men and he was glad 
 to furnish him with every opportunity of effecting real 
 and lasting service. He wrote him at once offering 
 him leave of absence. Congress then ordered "That 
 the sum of $25,000 be advanced to Major General 
 Arnold on account of his pay." Finally a general 
 order was issued by the Commander-in-chief himself 
 appointing General Arnold Commander of the Right 
 Wing of the American Army. The restoration so long 
 awaited was at length achieved. 
 
 Arnold at once began to make preparations for his 
 departure from the city. His privateering ventures 
 had been cleared up, but with profits barely sufficient to 
 meet his debts. Mount Pleasant, his sole possession, 
 had already been settled on his wife. His tenure of 
 office had been ended some time before, and whatever* 
 documents were destined for preservation had been 
 put in order pending the arrival of his successor. 
 
 The plan for his defection had been evolved by 
 him with elaborate detail. Never had the time been 
 more opportune for the execution of a piece of business 
 so nefarious. The country was without what could be 
 called a stable form of government. It was deprived 
 of any recognized means of exchange because of the 
 total depreciation of the Continental currency. The 
 British had obtained possession of the great city of
 
 THE LOYALIST 321 
 
 New York and were threatening to overrun the coun- 
 try south of the Susquehanna. Newport was menaced 
 and the entire British fleet was prepared to move up 
 the Hudson where, at West Point, one poorly equipped 
 garrison interposed between them and the forces of 
 General Carleton, which were coming down from Can* 
 ada. Washington was attempting to defend Philadel- 
 phia and watch Clinton closely from the heights of 
 Morristown, while he threatened the position of the 
 enemy in New York from West Point. In all the 
 American Commander had no more than four thousand 
 men, many of whom were raw recruits, mere boys, 
 whose services had been procured for nine months for 
 fifteen hundred dollars each. Georgia and the Caro- 
 linas were entirely reduced and it was only a question 
 of time before the junction of the two armies might be 
 effected. 
 
 Clinton was to attack West Point at once, in order 
 to break down the one barrier which stood between 
 his own army and the Canadian. Learning, however, 
 of the rapid progress of events on the American side 
 and more especially of the proposed defection of Gen- 
 eral Arnold, he suddenly changed his plan. He deter- 
 mined to attack Washington as soon as Arnold had 
 been placed in command of the right wing of the main 
 army. The latter was to suffer the attack to be made, 
 but at the psychological moment he was to desert his 
 Commander-in-chief in the field, and so effect the total 
 destruction of the entire force. 
 
 This was the plan which was being turned over in 
 his mind as he sat on this June afternoon in the great 
 room of his mansion. He was again clad in his Amer- 
 ican uniform and looked the warrior of old in his blue 
 and buff and gold. Care had marked his countenance
 
 322 THE LOYALIST 
 
 with her heavy hand, however, and had left deep fur- 
 rows across his forehead and down the sides of his 
 mouth. His eyes, too, had lost their old-time flash and 
 vivacity, his movements were more sluggish, his step 
 more halting. The trials of the past year had left 
 their visible tracings on him. 
 
 He sat and stroked his chin, and deliberated. In his 
 hand he held a letter, a letter without date or address 
 or salutation. It had been brought to him that day by 
 messenger from the city. He understood it perfectly. 
 
 He looked at it again. 
 
 "Knyphausen is in New Jersey," it read, "but, under- 
 standing Arnold is about to command the American 
 Army in the field, Clinton will attack Washington at 
 once. The bearer may be trusted. 
 
 ANDERSON." 
 
 II 
 
 "It is either Westminster Abbey for me or the 
 gallows," he remarked to his wife that evening when 
 they were quite alone. 
 
 "You have no apprehensions, I hope." 
 
 "There's many a slip " he quoted. 
 
 "Come! Be an optimist. You have set your heart 
 on it. So be brave." 
 
 "I have never lacked courage. At Saratoga while 
 that scapegoat Gates sulked in his tent, I burst from 
 the camp on my big brown horse and rode like a mad- 
 man to the head of Larned's brigade, my old command, 
 and we took the hill. Fear? I never knew what the 
 word meant. Dashing back to the center, I galloped 
 up and down before the line. We charged twice, and 
 the enemy broke and fled. Then I turned to the left
 
 THE LOYALIST 323 
 
 ana ordered West and Livingston with Morgan's corps 
 to make a general assault along the line. Here we 
 took the key to the enemy's position and there was 
 nothing for them to do but to retreat. At the same 
 instant one bullet killed my good brown horse under 
 me and another entered my leg. But the battle had 
 been won." 
 
 "Never mind, my dear, the world yet lies before 
 you." 
 
 "I won the war for them, damn 'em, in a single 
 battle, and single-handed. Lord North knew it. The 
 Rockingham Whigs, with Burke as their leader, knew 
 it and were ready to concede independence, having been 
 convinced that conciliation was no longer practicable 
 or possible. Richmond urged the impossibility of final 
 conquest, and even Gibbon agreed that the American 
 colonies had been lost. I accomplished all that, I tell 
 you, and I received what? a dead horse and a 
 wounded leg." 
 
 There was a flash of the old-time general, but only 
 a flash. It was evident that he was tiring easily. His 
 old-time stamina had abandoned him. 
 
 "Why do you so excite yourself?" Peggy cautioned 
 him. "The veins are bulging out on your forehead." 
 
 "When I think of it, it galls me. But I shall have 
 my revenge," he gloated maliciously. "Clinton is go- 
 ing to attack Washington as soon as I have taken over 
 my command. I shall outrival Albemarle yet." 
 
 "We may as well prepare to leave, then." 
 
 "There is no need of your immediate departure. 
 You are not supposed to be acquainted with my de- 
 signs. You must remain here. Later you can join 
 me." 
 
 "But you are going at once?"
 
 324 THE LOYALIST 
 
 "Yes, I shall leave very soon now. Let me see." He 
 paused to think. "It is over a week now since I was 
 appointed. The appointment was to take effect im- 
 mediately. I should report for duty at once." 
 
 "And I shall meet you " 
 
 "In New York, very probably. It is too early yet to 
 arrange for that. You will know where I am stationed 
 and can remain here until I send for you." 
 
 While they were still engaged in conversation, a 
 sound became very audible as of a horseman ascending 
 the driveway. A summons at the door announced a 
 courier from the Commander-in-chief to Major Gen- 
 eral Arnold. The latter presented himself and re- 
 ceived a packet on which had been stamped the seal of 
 official business. He took the document and withdrew. 
 
 It proved to be an order from His Excellency trans- 
 ferring the command of Major General Arnold on 
 account of physical disability, which would not permit 
 of service in the field, from the right wing of the 
 American Army to Commander of the fortress at West 
 Point. He was ordered to report for duty as soon as 
 circumstances would permit and was again assured of 
 His Excellency's highest respect and good wishes. 
 
 He handed the letter to Peggy without a word. He 
 sat in deep meditation while she hastily scanned the 
 contents. 
 
 "Tricked again," was her sole comment. 
 
 He did not answer. 
 
 "This looks suspicious. Do you think he knows?" 
 
 "No one knows." 
 
 "What will you do now? This upsets all your 
 plans." 
 
 "I do not know. I shall accept, of course. Later, 
 not now, we can decide."
 
 THE LOYALIST 325 
 
 "This means that I am going too." 
 
 "I suppose so. I shall have my headquarters there, 
 and while they may not be as commodious as Mount 
 Pleasant, still I would rather have you with me. We 
 shall arrange for our departure accordingly." 
 
 "You will, of course, inform Anderson of the 
 change?" 
 
 "He will hear of it. The news of the appointment 
 will travel fast enough you may be sure. Very likely 
 Knyphausen will now be recalled from New Jersey." 
 
 "So perishes your dream of a duchy!" she exclaimed. 
 
 "No. West Point is the most important post on 
 the American side. It is the connecting link between 
 New England and the rest of the colonies. It was the 
 prize which Johnny Burgoyne was prevented from ob- 
 taining by me. It commands the Hudson River and 
 opens the way to upper New York and Canada. It is 
 the most strategic position in America, stored with 
 immense quantities of ammunition and believed to be 
 impregnable. Without doubt it is the most critical 
 point in the American line." 
 
 "Bah! You need an army. Albemarle had an army. 
 Marlborough had an army. Of what use is a fortress 
 with a large force still in the field? It's the army that 
 counts, I tell you. Territory, forts, cities mean noth- 
 ing. It's the size of the army that wins the war." 
 
 "I know it, but what can I do?" 
 
 He conceded the point. 
 
 "Insist on your former post," she advised. 
 
 He thought awhile and began to whistle softly to 
 himself as he tapped his finger tips one against the 
 other. 
 
 "Listen," she continued. "There is some reason for 
 this transfer at the eleventh hour. Are you dense
 
 326 THE LOYALIST 
 
 enough not to see it? Some one has reached Washing- 
 ton's ear and whispered a secret. Else that order 
 would never have been written." 
 
 "Washington believes only what is true. Always 
 has he trusted and defended me from the vilifications 
 of my enemies, knowing that these reports only ema- 
 nated from jealous and unscrupulous hearts. My leg 
 has caused this change of command; I know it." 
 
 She looked at him in scorn. She could not believe 
 he could be so simple. 
 
 "Your leg ! What has your leg to do with it ? Once 
 you are astride your horse you are safe. And don't 
 you think for one minute that Clinton is a fool. He 
 does not want you. I dare say if the truth were 
 known, he has no respect for you either. It is your 
 command which is of value to him, and the more au- 
 thority you can master, the more valuable you become. 
 Then you can dictate your own terms instead of bar- 
 gaining them away." 
 
 "It would realize nothing to attempt a protest. A 
 soldier asks no questions. Whatever I may be, I am 
 still a soldier." 
 
 "As you will." 
 
 She shrugged her shoulders, and folded her arms. 
 
 "West Point it is," she observed, "but General Clin- 
 ton may reconsider his proposition. I would not be 
 too sure." 
 
 "I am sure he will be satisfied with West Point. 
 With that post he might easily end the war. Anderson 
 will write me soon again. I tell you I can dictate to 
 them now. You shall have your peerage after all." 
 
 "I am not so sure." 
 
 "Have it your own way. I know what I am about 
 and I know where I stand. At first it was a question
 
 THE LOYALIST 327 
 
 only of my personal desertion. The betrayal of an 
 army was a later development. But I could not be- 
 come a deserter on a small scale. I have been accus- 
 tomed all my life to playing signal roles. If I am to 
 sell myself at all, it shall be at the highest price to- 
 gether with the greatest prize. I have only one regret, 
 and that is that I am obliged to take advantage of the 
 confidence and respect of Washington to render this 
 at all possible." 
 
 "Don't let your heart become softened by tender 
 condolences at this stage. Your mind has been set; 
 don't swerve." 
 
 He looked at her and wondered how she could re- 
 main so imperturbable. Ordinarily she burned with 
 compassion at the sight of misery and affliction. He 
 could not understand for the life of him, how stoically 
 she maintained her composure throughout this ordeal. 
 Plainly her heart was set on one ambition. She would 
 be a duchess. 
 
 But she did not know that he had maintained a con- 
 tinual corespondence with Sir Henry Clinton, or that 
 West Point had long since been decided upon as a pos- 
 sible contingency. Much she did know, but most of the 
 details had been concealed from her. Not that he did 
 not trust her, but he wished her to be no party to his 
 nefarious work. 
 
 And so he was not surprised that she expressed a 
 genuine disappointment over his change of command. 
 In fact he had been prepared for a more manifest 
 display of disapproval. Perhaps it was due to the 
 fact that she was at length to accompany him which 
 caused her to be more benign in her appreciation of 
 the transfer. For he knew that she detested the city
 
 328 THE LOYALIST 
 
 and longed for the day when she might be far removed 
 from it forever. 
 
 "You will, of course, make ready to leave Mount 
 Pleasant?" he asked of her. 
 
 "Assuredly. I shall acquaint mother and father 
 with the prospect this evening. They do not want me 
 to leave. But I am determined." 
 
 "They should be here. It is not early." 
 
 "The ride is long. They will come." 
 
 Ill 
 
 The last night spent by the Arnolds and the Shippen 
 family at Mount Pleasant was a happy one. The en- 
 tire family was in attendance and the Arnold silver, 
 was lavishly displayed for the occasion. American 
 viands cooked and served in the prevailing American 
 fashion were offered at table hearty, simple food in 
 great plenty washed down by quantities of Madeira 
 and sherry and other imported beverages. 
 
 Toasts and healths were freely drunk. After the 
 more customary ones to the "Success of the War," to 
 the "Success of General Washington," to the "Nation" 
 there came the usual healths to the host and the host- 
 ess, and more especially to the "Appointment of Gen- 
 eral Arnold." The ceremonies were interspersed with 
 serious and animated conversation on the political 
 situation and the chances of the army in the field. 
 Throughout the entire meal a marked simplicity, a pur- 
 ity of manner, and frank cordiality was manifest, all 
 indicative of the charming and unaffected homelife of 
 the Americans. 
 
 "Miss Franks would have been pleased to be with
 
 THE LOYALIST 329 
 
 us," announced the General as the company awaited 
 another service. 
 
 "Could you believe it, General," said Mrs. Shippen, 
 "not once have we heard from that girl since she 
 moved to New York," and she set her lips firmly. 
 "That is so unlike her; I cannot understand it." 
 
 "But you know, Mother," explained Peggy, "that 
 the mail cannot be depended upon." 
 
 "I know, my dear, but I think that she could send a 
 line, if it were only a line, by messenger if she thought 
 enough of us. You know it was at our house that she 
 met the friends with whom she is now engaged." 
 
 "Our mail system is deplorable," Mr. Shippen re- 
 marked. "Only yesterday I received a letter which 
 apparently had been sent months ago." 
 
 "I can understand that very readily," Arnold re- 
 joined. "Often letters are entrusted to travelers. At 
 times these men deposit a letter at some inn at the 
 cross-roads for the next traveler who is bound for the 
 same place as the epistle. It often happens that such 
 a missive remains for months upon a mantelpiece 
 awaiting a favorable opportunity. Then again sheer 
 neglect may be responsible for an unusual delay. I 
 myself have experience of that." 
 
 This explanation seemed to satisfy Mrs. Shippen 
 for she dropped the subject immediately. The mode 
 of travel then occasioned a critical comment from her 
 until she finally asked when they intended to leave for 
 West Point. 
 
 "Very likely I shall leave before the week is out," 
 replied Arnold. "It is most important that I assume 
 command at once. We shall prepare to depart to- 
 
 morrow." 
 
 They talked far into the night, the men smoking
 
 330 THE LOYALIST 
 
 while the ladies retired to the great drawing-room. 
 Peggy played and sang, and took her mother aside at 
 intervals for conference upon little matters which re- 
 quired advice. At a late hour, after taking affection- 
 ate leaves, the families parted. Peggy and her hus- 
 band now abandoned themselves to their destiny to 
 glorious triumph or to utter ruin. 
 
 They closed the door upon their kinsfolk and faced 
 the situation. Westminster Abbey or the gallows 
 loomed before them. 
 
 IV 
 
 Late that same evening, alone before his desk, Gen- 
 eral Arnold penned the following ambiguous letter to 
 John Anderson. West Point it was. That was settled. 
 Still it was necessary that General Clinton be appraised 
 immediately of the change of command together with 
 some inkling of the military value of the new post. 
 The business was such that he dared not employ his 
 true name; and so he assumed a title, referring to him- 
 self throughout the note in the third person. The 
 meaning of the message, he knew, would be readily 
 interpreted. 
 
 Sir: On the 24th of last month I received a note 
 from you without date, in answer to mine ; also a letter 
 from your house in answer to mine, with a note from 
 B. of the 30th of June, with an extract of a letter from 
 Mr. J. Osborn. I have paid particular attention to the 
 contents of the several letters. Had they arrived ear- 
 lier, you should have had my answer sooner. A variety 
 of circumstances has prevented my writing you before. 
 I expect to do it very fully in a few days, and to pro-
 
 THE LOYALIST 331 
 
 cure you an interview with Mr. M e, when you will 
 be able to settle your commercial plan, I hope, in a 
 manner agreeable to all parties. Mr. M e assures 
 me that he is still of opinion that his first proposal is by 
 no means unreasonable, and makes no doubt, that, 
 when he has a conference with you, you will close with 
 it. He expects when you meet you will be fully au- 
 thorized from your House and that the risks and 
 profits of the co-partnership may be fully and clearly 
 understood. 
 
 A speculation might at this time be easily made to 
 some advantage with ready money, but there is not the 
 quantity of goods at market which your partner seems 
 to suppose, and the number of speculators below, I 
 think, will be against your making an immediate pur- 
 chase. I apprehend goods will be in greater plenty 
 and much cheaper in the course of the season; both dry 
 and wet are much wanted and in demand at this June* 
 ture. Some quantities are expected in this part of the 
 country soon. 
 
 Mr. M e flatters himself that in the course of ten 
 days he will have the pleasure of seeing you. He re- 
 quests me to advise you that he has ordered a draught 
 on you in favor of our mutual friend, S y for 1300, 
 which you will charge on account of the tobacco. 
 
 I am, in behalf of Mr. M e and Co., Sir, 
 Your most obedient, humble servant, 
 
 Gustavus. 
 
 To Mr. John Anderson, Merchant, 
 New York.
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 In the meantime, Marjorie was tossing restlessly, 
 nervously in her bed, enduring hours of disconsolate 
 remorse and lonely desolation. She could not sleep. 
 She cried her eyes wet with tears, and wiped them dry 
 again with her handkerchief; then stared up at the 
 black ceiling, or gazed out through the small window 
 at the faint glow in the world beyond. Her girlish 
 heart, lay heavy within her, distended almost to the 
 breaking-point with grief, a grief which had sent her 
 early to bed to seek solitude and consolation; that soli- 
 tude which alone brings relief to a heart freighted 
 with sorrow and woe. Now that Stephen had gone, 
 she had time to think over the meaning of it all, and 
 she began to experience the renewed agony of those 
 terrible moments by the water's edge. It was so awful, 
 so frightful that her tender frame seemed to yield 
 beneath its load, she simply had to give way to the 
 tears. 
 
 She could not sleep, and she knew it. Scrambling 
 out of her bed and wrapping a mantle about her, she 
 sat beside the window and peered into the night. There 
 was not a breeze to break the solemn silence, not a 
 sound to distract her from her reverie. Two black 
 and uncanny pine trees stood like armed guards near 
 by the corner of the house to challenge the interloper 
 from disturbing her meditation. Overhead the stars 
 
 332
 
 THE LOYALIST 333 
 
 blinked and glistened through the treetops in their lace 
 of foliage and delicate branches, and resembled for all 
 the world an hundred diamonds set in a band of fili- 
 gree work. The moon had not yet risen, and all the 
 world seemed to be in abject despair, bristling in horrid 
 shapes and sights, a fit dwelling-place for Marjorie 
 and her grief-sticken heart. 
 
 Stephen had gone away that afternoon, perhaps 
 never to return. For this she could not reproach him, 
 for she allowed that she had given him every reason 
 to feel offended. But she had hurt him, and very likely 
 hurt him to the quick. She knew his sensitive nature 
 and she feared the consequence. It was that thought 
 more than the real contrition over her fault which had 
 overwhelmed her. Her return for his many acts of 
 kindness had been one of austere repulsion. 
 
 Now she felt acutely the bitterness of it all. That 
 she had afforded him some encouragement, that she 
 had cooperated in the first place to make the setting of 
 it all quite perfect, that she had lent him her assurance 
 that she was amicably disposed towards him, and that 
 her action in regard to the miniature, while apparently 
 innocent enough, was fraught with significance for Ste- 
 phen in view of his intimate connections with the events 
 of the past two years, that after all perhaps she had 
 been entirely unreasonable throughout it all; these 
 were the thoughts which excited, both in the truth of 
 their reality and in the knowledge of the hopes they 
 had alternately raised and blasted in Stephen, the bitter 
 sorrow which was the cause of her mingled pain and 
 regret. 
 
 What would he think of her now? What could he 
 think? Plainly he must consider her a cold, austere 
 being, devoid of all feeling and appreciation. He had
 
 334 THE LOTALIST 
 
 given her the best that was in him and had made bold 
 enough to appraise her of it. Sincerity was manifest 
 in his every gesture and word, and yet she had made 
 him feel as if his protestations had been repugnant to 
 her. She knew his nature, his extreme diffidence in 
 matters of this kind, his power of resolution, and she 
 feared that once having tried and failed, he was lost to 
 her forever. 
 
 And yet she knew that she grieved not for herself 
 but for him. Her stern refusal had only caused him 
 the greater pain. Stephen would, perhaps, misunder- 
 stand as he had misunderstood her in the past and it 
 was the thought of the vast discomfiture she had occa- 
 sioned in him that stung her with sorrow. 
 
 Her warm, generous heart now chided her for her 
 apparent indifference. There was no other name for 
 it. What could he deduce from her behavior except 
 that she was a cold, ungrateful, irresolute creature who 
 did not know her own mind or the promptings of her 
 own heart! She had flung him from her smarting and 
 wounded, after he had summoned his entire strength 
 to whisper to her what she would have given worlds 
 to hear, but which had only confounded and startled 
 her by its suddenness. 
 
 And yet she loved him. She knew it and kept re- 
 peating it over and over again to her own self. No 
 one before or since had struck so responsive a chord 
 from her heart strings. There had been no other ideal 
 to which she had shaped the pictures of her mind. Ste- 
 phen was her paragon of excellence and to him the 
 faculties of her soul had turned of their own mood and 
 temper unknown even to the workings of her intellec- 
 tual consciousness, like the natural inclination of the 
 heliotrope before the rays of the rising sun.
 
 THE LOYALIST 335 
 
 Laying her head in the crook of her elbow she 
 sobbed bitterly. 
 
 The thought that he was gone from her life brought 
 inconsolable remorse. She knew him, knew the inti- 
 mate structure of his soul, and she knew that a deep 
 repentance would seize hold of him on account of his 
 rash presumption. He would be true to his word: he 
 would not breathe the subject again. Nay, more, he 
 would ever permit her to disappear from his life as 
 gradually as she had entered into it. This was unen- 
 durable but the consciousness that sh,e had caused this 
 bitter rupture was beyond all endurance still. 
 
 She lifted her head and stared into the black depths 
 of the night. All was still except the shrill pipings of 
 the frogs as they sounded their dissonant notes to one 
 another in the far-off Schuylkill meadows. They, too, 
 were filled with thoughts of love, Marjorie thought, 
 which they had made bold enough to publish in their 
 own discordant way, and they seemed to take eminent 
 delight in having the whole world aware of the fact 
 that it, too, might rejoice with them. 
 
 If it were true that she loved him, it were equally 
 true that he ought to be apprised of it. There could 
 be no love without a mutual understanding, for to love 
 alone would be admiration and entirely one-sided. Let 
 her unfold her soul to him in order that he might take 
 joy for his portion ere his ardor had cooled into mere 
 civility. For if it were licit to love, it were more licit 
 to express it and this expression should be reciprocal. 
 
 She would tell him before it were too late. Her 
 silence at the very moment when she should have acted 
 was unfortunate. Perhaps his affection had been killed 
 by the blow and her protestations would be falling 
 upon barren soil. No matter! She would write and
 
 336 THE LOYALIST 
 
 unfold her heart to him, and tell him that she really 
 and truly cared for him more than any one else in the 
 world, and she would beg him to return that she might 
 whisper in his ear those very words she had been softly 
 repeating to herself. Full repentence would take pos- 
 session of her soul, and her heart would rush unre- 
 strained to the object of its love, telling him that she 
 was with him always, thinking of him, praying for him, 
 and waiting for him. She would write him at once. 
 
 II 
 
 But she did not mail the letter. Hidden carefully 
 in her room, it lay all the next day. Unworthy post- 
 chaise to bear so precious a manuscript! She would 
 journey herself to its destination to safeguard it, were 
 it at all possible. A thousand and one misgivings 
 haunted her concerning the safety of its arrival, Ste- 
 phen might have been transferred to some distant 
 point, the letter itself might possibly fall into awkward 
 hands, it might lay for months in the post bag, or fall 
 into a dark corner of some obscure tavern, the roads 
 were infested with robbers, horrible thoughts, too 
 horrible to record. 
 
 She did not know just how long it had taken her to 
 compose it. The end of the candle had burned quite 
 out during the process, and she lay deliberating over 
 its contents and wondering just what else might be 
 added. Twice she was on the point of arising to as- 
 sure herself on the style of her confession, but each 
 time she changed her mind, deciding to yield to her 
 earlier thought. The darkness seemed to envelop her 
 in fancy, and when she again opened her eyes the dark-
 
 THE LOYALIST 337 
 
 ness had disappeared before the light. It was morning 
 and she arose for the day. 
 
 Hour by hour she waited to tell her mother. It 
 was only right that she should know, and she proposed 
 to tell her all, even the very episode on the river bank. 
 She needed counsel, especially during these lonely mo- 
 ments, and she felt that she could obtain it only by 
 unfolding her heart unreservedly. Mother would 
 know; in fact, she must have suspected the gravity of 
 the affair. But how would she begin it? She longed 
 for an opening, but no opening presented itself. 
 
 The meaning of his addresses she saw, or she 
 thought she saw. Stephen loved her; his words were 
 very effective. Indeed, he had made no mention of 
 marriage, nevertheless she sensed that his ulterior pur- 
 pose had been revealed to her fully. Perhaps it was 
 this consummation which caused her heart to stand 
 suddenly still; perhaps it was the vision of the new life 
 which was opening before her. She would have to go 
 away with him as his wife, away from her home, away 
 from her beloved father and mother. The summers 
 would come and go and she would be far distant from 
 her own, in far-off New York, perhaps, or some other 
 city better adapted for the career of a young man of 
 ability. They might live in Philadelphia, near to her 
 home, yet not in it. That would be preferable, yet the 
 future could lend her no assurance. She would be his 
 for life, and with him would be obliged to begin a new 
 manner of living. 
 
 Such thoughts as these occupied her for the greater 
 part of the day, and before she was really aware of it, 
 her father had come home for the evening. She could 
 not tell both at once; better to tell them in turn. It 
 would be more confidential and better to her liking.
 
 338 THE LOYALIST 
 
 Once the secret was common between them, it was easy 
 to discuss it together, and so she decided that she 
 would put it off until the morrow. Then she would tell 
 mother, and let her mother talk it over with her 
 father. Both then would advise her. 
 
 "Next week is going to see the greatest event in the 
 history of the Church in America," Marjorie heard her 
 father remark as he placed his hat upon the rack be- 
 hind the door. 
 
 "What is it now?" inquired her mother who chanced 
 to be in the sitting-room when he entered. 
 
 "The Congress is going to Mass." 
 
 "The Congress?" she exclaimed. "Praised be God!" 
 
 "What news, father?" asked Marjorie, hurrying 
 into the room. 
 
 "The Congress, the President and the prominent 
 men of the nation have been invited to take part in the 
 solemn Te Deum next Sunday. It is the anniversary 
 of the signing of the Declaration." 
 
 "Isn't that remarkable?" 
 
 "It is remarkable," he repeated. "The French Am- 
 bassador has issued the invitations and all have signi- 
 fied their intentions of being present. Here is one of 
 them." Taking fromhispocket a foldedpaper, he hand- 
 ed it to Marjorie. She opened it at once and read aloud, 
 
 "Mr. Matthew Allison: You are invited by the 
 Minister Plenipotentiary of France to attend the Te 
 Deum, which will be chanted on Sunday, the 4th of this 
 month, at noon, in the new Catholic Chapel, to cele- 
 brate the anniversary of the Independence of the 
 United States of America. 
 
 "Philadelphia, the Second of July. M. Gerard."
 
 THE LOYALIST 339 
 
 "The Congress going to Mass!" said his wife, ap- 
 parently unable to comprehend fully the meaning of it 
 all. 
 
 "The more one thinks of it the more strange it be- 
 comes. They branded Charles the First a Papist be- 
 cause he permitted his queen, who was born and bred 
 a Catholic, to attend Holy Mass. Now we have our 
 newly-formed government not alone countenancing 
 Popery, but actually participating in a supposedly 
 pagan and idolatrous form of worship." 
 
 "This marks the end of religious prejudice in this 
 country," observed Marjorie. "At length all men are 
 in all things equal, equal in the sight of God and man. 
 Don't you think our leaders must realize this and are 
 taking steps to prepare the minds of the people accord- 
 ingly?" 
 
 "Yes," he replied, " and I don't know but what it is 
 only right. We all go to the market together, trade 
 our goods together, rub elbows together, clear the land 
 together, fight together. Why shouldn't we live to- 
 gether in peace? Intolerance and bigotry are dead and 
 buried. We have laid the foundations of the greatest 
 country in the world." 
 
 "Thank God for that!" breathed Mrs. Allison. 
 
 "We are respected above all calculation," Mr. 
 Allison continued. "Our Loyalty now is unques- 
 tioned." 
 
 "We may thank God for that, too." 
 
 "And Captain Meagher!" added Marjorie. 
 
 Her eyes beamed. 
 
 "Yes, you are right, girl," said her father. "We 
 can thank Captain Meagher. The frustration and the 
 exposure of that plot has increased our reputation an
 
 340 THE LOYALIST 
 
 hundredfold. Heretofore, the Catholic population 
 had been regarded as an insignificant element, but when 
 the ambitions of the enemy to secure their cooperation 
 were discovered, the value of the Catholics to the coun- 
 try suddenly rose." 
 
 "Our unity must have created a lasting impression," 
 Marjorie remarked. 
 
 "Not alone our unity, but our loyalty as well. The 
 government has learned that we have been ever true to 
 the land of our birth, ever loyal to the country of our 
 adoption. It has thoughtfully considered the value of 
 our sacrifices, and has carefully estimated our contribu- 
 tion to the cause of freedom. When the charter of 
 liberty assumes a more definite form our rights will 
 specifically be determined. Of that I am reasonably 
 certain. The enemy failed to allure us from our coun- 
 try in its time of need; our country will not abandon 
 us in our time of need." 
 
 "Stephen did it," announced Marjorie. 
 
 "Stephen helped to do it," replied her father. 
 
 Ill 
 
 That same evening, during a stolen moment while 
 her mother was busied with the turning of the buck- 
 wheat cakes, Marjorie crept to her father's knee and 
 folded her arms over it. 
 
 "Daddy!" she looked up at him from her seated 
 posture on the floor. "What would you say to a very 
 eligible young man who had told you that he was very 
 fond of you?" 
 
 "What would I say?" asked the father in surprise. 
 
 "Yes. What would you?"
 
 THE LOYALIST 341 
 
 "I would not say anything. I would have him exam- 
 ined." 
 
 "No, Daddy. This is serious," and she pushed his 
 knee from her as she spoke. 
 
 I am serious. If a man told me that he was very 
 fond of me, I would question his sanity." 
 
 She laughed. 
 
 "You know what I mean. I mean if you were a 
 girl and " 
 
 "But I am not a girl." 
 
 "Well, if you were?" 
 
 "If I was what?" 
 
 "You know what I mean quite well. Would you 
 hate him at first?" 
 
 "I hope not. I should want to strangle him, but I 
 wouldn't hate him." 
 
 "And you would strangle him? For what?" 
 
 "For daring." 
 
 "Daring what?" 
 
 "You know." 
 
 He smiled. 
 
 "Oh, dear I Won't you listen to me? Tell me what 
 to do." 
 
 "I could not tell you. You have not told me what 
 has happened." 
 
 "I asked you what you would say to an attractive 
 soldier who had told you that he loved you." 
 
 "Yes. And I told you that if he had told that to 
 me, I would ask what ailed him." 
 
 "Oh, Daddy, you are too funny tonight. I can't 
 reason with you." 
 
 She sat back on her heels and pouted. 
 
 He smiled and roused himself upright and put his 
 arm around her and drew her to him.
 
 342 THE LOYALIST 
 
 "There ! There ! I know what you mean, daugh- 
 ter. It means that I shall have no say in the matter." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 "You will do it all." 
 
 "No. I shall never leave you." 
 
 "Yes, you will. You will be happier. But why didn't 
 Stephen ask me about it?" 
 
 "How did you know it was Stephen?" she looked at 
 him in astonishment. 
 
 "Well enough." 
 
 "But how?" she repeated. 
 
 "I knew it all the time and your mother and I have 
 been prepared for this occasion." 
 
 "But who told you?" Her eyes opened full and 
 round in genuine wonder. Here was one surprise after 
 the other. 
 
 "There was no need of any one telling me. I have 
 been watching the pair of you, and sensed what the 
 outcome would be some little while ago." 
 
 "But, Daddy. How should you know?" 
 
 He laughed outright. 
 
 "There ! There ! We are satisfied quite, I can as- 
 sure you. I know what you are about to say; and your 
 mother knows it too." 
 
 "But I have not yet told her. I meant to tell her 
 today but did not. Then I thought of telling you and 
 of whispering the whole story to her after we were 
 upstairs." 
 
 She was serious, very serious, absorbed for the most 
 part in her story although her mind was clouded with 
 amazement at the want of surprise which was mani- 
 fested. Her innocent mind apparently was unable for 
 the time being to fathom the intricacies of this plot
 
 THE LOYALIST 343 
 
 which seemed to be laid bare to every one concerned 
 save her own self. 
 
 "Of course you will tell her, but you will find that 
 she will consent to the proposal." 
 
 "What proposal?" 
 
 "Why, I suppose the proposal of your coming mar- 
 riage." 
 
 "But! ... But! ... Daddy! . . . I never said 
 anything about marriage." 
 
 "You did start to tell me that Stephen told you he 
 was very fond of you?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "And you told him the same." 
 
 "No, I didn't." 
 
 "But you will tell him." 
 
 A hush followed. She looked askance at him from 
 the corner of her eye. 
 
 "And so after you two have told one another as 
 much as that you may as well decide upon the date." 
 
 "But ... I ... I am not sure that I want to marry 
 him." 
 
 "Well, that is your privilege, you know." 
 
 "And . . . And . . . perhaps he will never ask me 
 again." 
 
 "Just wait a bit." 
 
 "And would you marry him?" 
 
 "I told you that I would not. I already have one 
 wife . . ." 
 
 "Oh! You make me lose all patience," she cried 
 rising from the floor and leaving him. "I shall confide 
 in mother." 
 
 "Remember," he cautioned her in a somewhat 
 serious strain. "Do not ask her to marry him." 
 
 She was gone.
 
 344 THE LOYALIST 
 
 The following day a letter was dispatched to the 
 Headquarters at Morristown, New Jersey. In the 
 meantime a very large doubt began to take form in 
 the mind of one little girl concerning the manner of 
 its reception. A thousand and one impossible situ- 
 ations were conceived, but there seemed nothing to do; 
 he must now do it all. The possibility loomed ghost- 
 like before her: he might never return. The wound 
 which she had caused still smarted and ached. He 
 might never return. Her eyes wandered and strayed 
 among the multitude of objects before them; her lips 
 had forgotten their usual smile. He might fail to re- 
 ceive her note and if he did he might disdain to 
 acknowledge it. But no ! He would not do that. 
 There was naught else to do but wait. Oh ! if the mo- 
 ments would only hurry !
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 It was a great day for Philadelphia when the Con- 
 tinental Congress went to Mass. It was Independence 
 Day, too, but this was of lesser importance in the- 
 estimation of the people, especially of the Catholic 
 portion of them. Fully a quarter before the hour, the 
 bell began to sound and the streets became like so 
 many avenues of commerce with people standing in 
 doorways, or leaning from their windows, or hurry- 
 ing with feverish haste in the direction of the New 
 Chapel of St. Mary's, the parish church of the city. 
 There a number of them congregated in twos or threes 
 to await the procession of notables, who would soon 
 approach with great solemnity and dignity from the 
 opposite corner of the street. 
 
 The celebration came about in this manner: 
 It was the desire of M. Gerard, the Minister Pleni- 
 potentiary of France, to commemorate the anniversary 
 day of the Independence of the United States in a 
 religious manner. Arrangements already had been 
 made to hold Divine worship earlier in the morning at 
 Christ Church, at which the guests of honor were in- 
 vited to be present. At twelve o'clock the congregation 
 would march to the Church of St. Mary, where a mili- 
 tary Mass and a solemn Te Deum would be sung. The 
 Reverend Seraphin Bandol, chaplain to the French 
 
 345
 
 346 THE LOYALIST 
 
 Embassy, would celebrate the Mass and deliver a ser- 
 mon appropriate to the occasion. 
 
 It had been fondly expected that the event would 
 assume an international tone. Events had been mov- 
 ing with extraordinary rapidity towards the establish- 
 ment of the Roman Catholic religion in the graces of 
 the government, and this celebration might demon- 
 strate the patriotic motives of the Catholic body be- 
 yond the shadow of a doubt. That a Congress, whicn of 
 late had condemned in the strongest terms the prac- 
 tices of the Roman Catholic religion, could change in 
 sentiment and action in so short a time, would be an 
 unequivocal proof of the countenance and good will 
 which the Catholic religion was beginning to acquire. 
 At any rate the example set by the governing body of 
 the new republic attending Mass in a Roman Catholic 
 edifice, offering up their devout orisons in the language, 
 service and worship of Rome, would be a memorable 
 one, an augury of the new spirit of religious freedom 
 which later would be breathed into the Constitution of 
 these same States by these same men. 
 
 Precisely at ten minutes before the hour they came, 
 walking in pairs, headed by John Hancock, the Presi- 
 dent of the Continental Congress, and His Excellency 
 M. Gerard, the French Ambassador. Immediately 
 after the Congress, marched the Supreme Executive 
 Council of Philadelphia with Joseph Reed at its head. 
 Then came the French Embassy, resplendent in its 
 dress of blue and gold. Prominent civilians, military 
 officers, men of repute in city and nation, followed 
 slowly along the crowded thoroughfare and as slowly 
 made their way into the small edifice. General Wash- 
 ington was not present, having been prevented by duty 
 in the field.
 
 THE LOYALIST 347 
 
 Within, the little church murmured with low talk- 
 ing. Ordinarily, the congregation would have been 
 absorbed in silent contemplation before the Presence 
 of the Divine One, but the impressiveness of the occa- 
 sion made the people depart from their usual fervor. 
 The little church was only partly filled when the great 
 procession arrived and every head instinctively turned 
 in the direction of the entrance at the sound of their 
 many footsteps. As they marched down the aisle 
 every breath was held; then as they began to file into 
 the pews reserved for them, the subdued murmur 
 began again. 
 
 Marjorie and her father sat to the rear of the 
 church in the company of the early arrivals. In fact 
 the entire Allison family occupied the same pew, 
 pressed, indeed, for room on account of the multitude 
 which crowded its way into the church and into the 
 small aisles. Round about them on every side sat the 
 congregation, some of whom were already familiar to 
 them, the majority of whom, however, were total 
 strangers. From their appearance and demeanor it 
 was not difficult to conclude, Marjorie thought, that 
 more than one-half of them were non-Catholic. 
 
 The inside of the church was adorned in splendid 
 array with the emblems of France and the United 
 States. In the sanctuary, on each side of the altar, 
 stood two large flags of the allied nations, while across 
 the choir gallery in the rear of the church, there 
 stretched in festoons, the colors of the infant republic 
 superimposed in the middle by a shield bearing the like- 
 ness of Louis XVI. On the altar bloomed a variety of 
 cut flowers, arranged in an artistic and fanciful man- 
 ner on the steps of the reredos amidst a great profusion 
 of white unlighted candles. The three highest candle-
 
 348 THE LOYALIST 
 
 sticks on each side had been lighted, and the little 
 tongues of living flame were leaping from them joy- 
 fully. Over the tabernacle a large crucifix raised aloft, 
 while just before the door of the tabernacle rested the 
 chalice with its white veil, arranged in the form of a 
 truncated triangle, shielding it from view. 
 
 For several minutes after the honorable body had 
 been seated there was a confusion of feet and forms as 
 the members of the congregation surged into the 
 church. The pews filled quickly, and the more tardy 
 and less fortunate individuals sought places along the 
 aisles and along the rear. Overhead the small organ 
 gasped and panted the strains of a martial air, the 
 uneven throbbing of its bellows emphasizing the 
 fatigue and exhaustion of its faithful operator. 
 
 "Is that the French Ambassador?" whispered Mar- 
 jorie to her father. 
 
 "With the brocade and lace. Yes. Next to him is 
 Mr. Hancock, President of the Congress." 
 
 She looked and saw the noble head and dignified 
 bearing of the statesman. He sat very erect and ma- 
 jestic, presenting an appearance of taste and refine- 
 ment in his suit of silken black. 
 
 "There is Mr. Adams, John Adams, with the great 
 powdered periwig. The tall thin man seated at his 
 right is Thomas Jefferson, who wrote the Declaration. 
 He is, without doubt, the scholar of the Congress." 
 
 Marjorie followed his whispering with evident in- 
 terest. Never had she been in the company of such 
 notable men. 
 
 "Who is that? See! He is turning sideways." 
 
 "Livingston. Robert Livingston. Then the great 
 Robert Morris, whose financial aid made possible the 
 continuance of the war. His personal sacrifice for the
 
 THE LOYALIST 349 
 
 cause of independence will never be computed. He is 
 Washington's best friend." 
 
 She peered through the crowd to catch a glimpse of 
 the famous financier. 
 
 "Do not overlook our staunch Catholic member of 
 the Congress, Charles Carroll. Lest he might be mis- 
 taken for any other man of the same name he made 
 bold to affix after his name on the Declaration of Inde- 
 pendence, 'of Carrollton.' A representative Catholic 
 and a true patriot!" 
 
 She recalled this, having seen the name of "Charles 
 Carroll of Carrollton" on the printed copy of the Dec- 
 laration. 
 
 Mr. Allison again nudged his daughter with his 
 elbow to attract her attention. 
 
 "Can you see that elderly man with the sharp- 
 pointed features over across?" he asked. 
 
 She looked in the direction indicated but did not 
 seem to be able to locate him. 
 
 "The second pew, third man from the aisle." 
 
 "Yes! Yes!" she exclaimed. 
 
 "That is Richard Henry Lee of Virginia, the author 
 of the resolution 'That these United Colonies are, and 
 of right ought to be, free and independent States.' That 
 paved the way for the drawing up of the Declaration." 
 
 The makers of history were before her, and her 
 eyes danced at their sober and grave demeanor. Here 
 sat the Congress, not all of it, but a goodly portion of 
 it, which had voted unanimously in favor of complete 
 separation from the mother country. Here were those 
 very men who had risked their all, their fortunes, their 
 homes, their lives for their country's cause. Here they 
 now assembled, visibly burdened with the cares and the 
 apprehensions of the past few years, still uncertain of
 
 350 THE LOYALIST 
 
 the future, but steadfastly determined to endure to the 
 bitter end, either to hang together or to rise to glorious 
 triumphs together. And here they sat or knelt in the 
 temple of God to rededicate their fortunes to Him, to 
 accept from His hands the effects of His judgments, 
 but at the same time to implore Him to look with favor 
 upon their efforts and to render possible of realization 
 those desires which were uppermost in their hearts. 
 Marjorie thought that they could not, they must not 
 fail, they, who were animated by such sincere devotion 
 and by such sentiments of genuine piety. 
 
 "Mr. Franklin isn't here?" she whispered. 
 
 "No," he softly answered. "I think he has not re- 
 turned from France. He was there, you know, when 
 the Alliance was concluded. Lafayette only joined 
 Washington last month. Did you know that he 
 brought with him a commission from the French King 
 to General Washington, appointing him Lieutenant- 
 General in the French army and Vice-Admiral of its 
 navy?" 
 
 "No. I did not hear of it." 
 
 "I suppose Franklin is still over there. He would be 
 here, although he himself is an atheist. He believes in 
 no form of religious worship. I should not say that 
 he is an atheist for he does believe in One God, but 
 that is about all." 
 
 The murmur about the little church began to die 
 away. Still the surging at the door continued until it 
 seemed as if the small building would burst its sides 
 with its great burden. 
 
 The tinkle of a little bell sounding from the door 
 leading from the sanctuary announced that the Mass 
 was about to begin. On the instant the congregation 
 rose and remained standing until Father Bandol, pre-
 
 THE LOYALIST 351 
 
 ceded by the altar boys, had reached the foot of the 
 altar and made the genuflection. 
 
 H 
 
 High up in the gallery the choir broke into the 
 strains of the "Kyrie" of the Mass, while the priest in 
 a profound bow before the altar made his confession 
 of sins. Marjorie took out her prayer-book and began 
 to follow the Mass, meditating upon the mysteries of 
 Our Lord's life as commemorated in the Holy Sacri- 
 fice. 
 
 Ascending the altar, the priest passed at once to the 
 right hand side where lay the Mass-Book, from which 
 he read the Introit. He returned to the center and 
 chanted in soft clear tones the "Gloria in Excelsis," the 
 hymn of praise which the angels sang for the first time 
 on Christmas night when Christ, the Lord, was born. 
 This was taken up immediately by the choir. Mean- 
 while the congregation were seated during the singing 
 of this hymn of praise to the Most High. 
 
 The prayers of the Mass, prayers for our rulers, 
 prayers for peace were sung by the celebrant, the 
 people kneeling in an attitude of prayer while their 
 priest interceded to God in their behalf. Having fin- 
 ished the prayers for the people a Lesson from one of 
 St. Paul's Epistles was read, after which the priest 
 passed to the left side of the altar to sing a passage 
 from the Gospel. The people now stood to profess 
 their belief in the faith and teachings of Jesus Christ. 
 
 Marjorie and her father and mother recollected 
 themselves quite during these solemn moments and no 
 syllable of communication passed between them, all as- 
 sisting at the service with prayer-books or beads, fol-
 
 352 THE LOYALIST 
 
 lowing every movement of the priest intelligently and 
 with devotion. 
 
 The congregation were permitted to sit while the 
 celebrant of the Mass offered the materials for the sac- 
 rifice, unleavenedibread and the pure juice of the grape, 
 to Almighty God, to adore Him above all other things, 
 to thank Him for all the graces and blessings bestowed 
 by Him on mankind, to satisfy His justice for the sins 
 of man and to implore Him for whatever favors He 
 might deign to bestow. 
 
 Soon the voice of Father Bandol resounded 
 through the church with the opening tones of the 
 Preface of the Mass, the responses to which were 
 made by the members of the choir. Slowly and 
 solemnly he chanted the notes of praise, ending with the 
 "Holy, Holy, Holy, Lord God of Hosts." A sound 
 from the bell gave the warning that the awful moment 
 was about to arrive, the moment when the ambassador 
 of Christ would exercise the power communicated to 
 him from Jesus Himself through the Twelve and their 
 successors, the power of changing the substance of 
 bread and wine into the substance of the Body and 
 Blood of Jesus Christ. 
 
 The people bent forward in an attitude of humble 
 adoration. Marjorie buried her face in her hands 
 on the top of the forward pew, pouring out her heart 
 in praise and thanksgiving to her God and Master. 
 In profound reverence she remained while the priest 
 pronounced the mystical words "Hoc est enim corpus 
 meum" over the species and effected the mystery of 
 mysteries, the translation of Christ's Mystical Body 
 to the elements of the earth, in the transubstantiation 
 of the Mass. Now Her Lord was present before her; 
 now the Divinity of His Person was but a few feet
 
 THE LOYALIST 353 
 
 away, clothed, not in flesh and blood, but under the 
 appearances of bread and wine; now Her Creator was 
 with her, lying on the white corporal of the altar and 
 she poured forth her soul to Him in accents of adora- 
 tion and supplication. 
 
 "O my God I" she breathed. "I adore Thee through 
 Jesus; I beg pardon through Jesus; I thank Thee 
 through Jesus ; I humbly ask every blessing and grace 
 through Jesus. May I lead a holy life and die a good 
 death. My Jesus! mercy I My Jesus! mercy! My 
 Jesus! mercy!" 
 
 The prayers for the dead were read and the Pater 
 Noster was chanted. A signal from the bell announced 
 that the priest's communion was about to take place 
 and that the distribution of the Sacred Body would be 
 made to as many as desired to partake of it. It was 
 Sunday and the majority of the Catholics present had 
 been in attendance at an earlier Mass, on which ac- 
 count there were no communicants at this later one. 
 The closing ceremonies were concluded with the read- 
 ing of the Gospel of St. John, when Father Bandol 
 turned towards the congregation to begin his address. 
 Every member present sat upright in his seat and 
 awaited the message which was about to fall from the 
 lips of the priest. 
 
 Ill 
 
 "My dear brethren," he said, "we are assembled to 
 celebrate the anniversary of that day which Providence 
 had marked, in His eternal decrees, to become the 
 epoch of liberty and independence to the thirteeni 
 United States of America." 
 
 There was a silence throughout the church which
 
 354 THE LOYALIST 
 
 was breathless. Every eye was focused on the vested 
 form before the altar. 
 
 "That Being whose almighty hand holds all exist- 
 ence beneath its dominion undoubtedly produces in the 
 depths of His wisdom those great events which aston- 
 ish the world and of which the most presumptuous, 
 though instrumental in accomplishing them, dare not 
 attribute to themselves the merit. But the finger of 
 God is still more peculiarly evidenced in that happy, 
 that glorious revolution which calls forth this day's 
 festivity. He hath struck the oppressors of a free 
 people free and peaceful, with the spirit of delusion 
 which renders the wicked artificers of their own proper 
 misfortunes. 
 
 "Permit me, my dear brethren, citizens of the 
 United States, to address you on this occasion. It is 
 that God, that all powerful God, who hath directed 
 your steps; who, when you were without arms fought 
 for you the sword of justice; who, when you were in 
 adversity, poured into your hearts the spirit of courage, 
 of wisdom, and fortitude, and who hath, at length, 
 raised up for your support a youthful sovereign whose 
 virtues bless and adorn a sensible, a fruitful and a gen- 
 erous nation." 
 
 The French Ambassador bowed his head in pro- 
 found acquiescence. 
 
 "This nation hath blended her interest with your 
 interest and her sentiments with yours. She partici- 
 pates in all your joys, and this day unites her voice to 
 yours at the foot of the altars of the eternal God to 
 celebrate that glorious revolution which has placed the 
 sons of America among the free and independent na- 
 tions of the earth. 
 
 "We have nothing now to apprehend but the anger
 
 THE LOYALIST 355 
 
 of Heaven, or that the measure of our guilt should 
 exceed His mercy. Let us then prostrate ourselves at 
 the feet of the immortal God, who holds the fate of 
 empires in His hands, and raises them up at His pleas- 
 ure, or breaks them down to dust. Let us conjure Him 
 to enlighten our enemies, and to dispose their hearts to 
 enjoy that tranquillity and happiness which the Revo- 
 lution we now celebrate has established for a great part 
 of the human race. Let us implore Him to conduct us 
 by that way which His Providence has marked out for 
 arriving at so desirable an end. Let us offer unto Him 
 hearts imbued with sentiments of respect, consecrated 
 by religion, humanity and patriotism. Never is the 
 august ministry of His altars more acceptable to His 
 Divine Majesty than when it lays at His feet homages, 
 offerings and vows, so pure, so worthy the common 
 offerings of mankind. 
 
 "God will not regret our joy, for He is the author 
 of it; nor will He forget our prayers, for they ask but 
 the fulfillment of the decrees He has manifested. 
 Filled with this spirit, let us, in concert with one an- 
 other, raise our hearts to the Eternal; let us implore 
 His infinite mercy to be pleased to inspire the rulers 
 of both nations with the wisdom and force necessary 
 to perfect what He hath begun. Let us, in a word, 
 unite our voices to beseech Him to dispense His bless- 
 ings upon the counsels and the arms of the allies and 
 that we may soon enjoy the sweets of a peace which 
 will soon cement the Union and establish the pros- 
 perity of the two empires." 
 
 The same religious silence prevailed; indeed there 
 sat many in the same immovable posture. But it was 
 evident that the words were being received with pleas-
 
 356 THE LOYALIST 
 
 ure and satisfaction. Signs of approval appeared on 
 every face. 
 
 "It is with this view," the priest concluded, "that 
 we shall cause that canticle to be chanted, which the 
 custom of the Catholic Church hath consecrated, to be 
 at once a testimonial of public joy, a thanksgiving for 
 benefits received from heaven, and a prayer for the 
 continuance of its mercies." 
 
 IV 
 
 He had done. As he stepped to the floor of the 
 sanctuary and took his stand before the center of the 
 altar a pronounced disturbance, accompanied by much 
 coughing, made itself manifest. This was followed by 
 a great rumble as the entire congregation rose to its 
 feet to await the intonation of the Te Deum. 
 
 Pleasant and sweet rose Father Bandol's voice above 
 the rustling in the opening notes of that most majestic 
 of all hymns of praise : 
 
 "Te Deum laudamus: te Dominum confitemur." 
 
 And immediately the vast throng took up the melody 
 and there reverberated throughout the church, escap- 
 ing through the open doors and windows, across the 
 streets and over the roof-tops, up to the topmost re- 
 gions of the heavens, to the very gates of heaven itself, 
 the strains of the Ambrosian hymn of thanksgiving 
 and praise which the members of the American Con- 
 gress sang to the God of Nations and of Battles in tHe 
 little chapel of St. Mary's on the anniversary day of 
 the signing of the greatest exposition of a freeman's 
 rights ever penned by the hand of man.
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 The wayfarer on this July afternoon in the fifth year 
 of American Independence might have passed on the 
 main thoroughfare leading into the city of Philadel- 
 phia from the townships of Bristol and Trenton, a 
 young and powerfully built officer astride a spirited 
 chestnut mare. The countryside, through which he 
 was journeying, stretched for miles around in peaceful 
 solitude, teeming and delightful with that leafy and 
 rich green livery which we are accustomed to associate 
 with the idea of abundance. Overhead the sky was 
 clear, from which the sun blazed down great billows 
 of heat that hovered over the landscape, giving vigor 
 and enthusiasm to the various forms of vegetable life, 
 but at the same time causing the animal world to 
 drowse and languish in discomfort. 
 
 It was plain to be seen that the horseman was an 
 officer of the Continental Army. His mount, young 
 and well groomed, gave every indication of a long 
 ride, its nostrils dilated, its mouth moist with foam, its 
 sides streaky with strings of sweat. Haste was de- 
 sired, it was apparent, although in the more exposed 
 portions of the roadway the mare was allowed to walk, 
 her rider affectionately patting her neck or coaxing her 
 along with an encouraging remark. 
 
 "Look, Dolly! There is some soft, tender grass to 
 cool your lips. We shall take some." 
 
 357
 
 358 THE LOYALIST 
 
 And he turned the mare to the side of the road and 
 allowed her to nibble at the greensward. 
 
 Soon they were again on their way, she munching 
 the while on the last mouthful, now walking, now im- 
 patiently breaking into a canter; Stephen, holding her 
 in check with his hand, looked far ahead at the roofs 
 of the city beyond. Through his mind there passed in 
 review the incidents of the day, the memory of his 
 business just concluded, the speculation of the future 
 of the army, the contemplation of his reception by 
 Marjorie. 
 
 He had been away for more than a month. During 
 that time he was engaged in business of the gravest 
 nature. Many hours had been spent in the company 
 of the Commander-in-chief before whom he had laid 
 an account of his varied activities in the city. The 
 proposed plan for the formation of the regiment of 
 Roman Catholic Volunteers, with all its ramifications 
 and side issues, together with an account of his own 
 adventures in its respect, was reported faithfully and 
 accurately to his superior. The person of John Ander- 
 son, his suspicions concerning him, the strangely formed 
 friendship of the spy with the Military Governor, were 
 indicated with only that amount of reserve necessary 
 to distinguish a moral from an absolute certitude. 
 Events had moved with great rapidity, yet he felt as- 
 sured that the real crisis was only now impending, for 
 which reason he desired to return to the city so as to 
 be ready for any service which might be required. 
 
 "Go along, girl. We want to reach home by noon." 
 
 Dolly heeded him and began to canter. 
 
 Washington had not taken kindly to his suggestion 
 for the recall of General Arnold's command; in fact 
 he had treated the proposal with a scorn worthy of his
 
 THE LOYALIST 359 
 
 strong sense and dauntless courage. It was plain to be 
 seen that His Excellency had placed much reliance and 
 confidence in his favorite officer. It was impossible to 
 create so much as a suspicion in the mind of him, who 
 had been compelled to endure irksome suppression at 
 the hands of a cabalistic and jealous military party, 
 and who, for that very reason, took a magnanimous 
 view of the plight of one beset with similar persecu- 
 tions. General Arnold was in his eyes a brave and 
 fearless leader, but one unfortunately annoyed and 
 tormented by the machinations of an ungrateful and 
 intolerant populace. 
 
 And so when it came to pass that the one General, 
 whom he had admired and trusted, applied for an 
 active command in the field, General Washington cor- 
 dially granted the request. If the wounded limb would 
 permit it, there was no doubt in the mind of His Excel- 
 lency that General Arnold would prove the most heroic 
 and able officer along the line. Lincoln was gone, hav- 
 ing been forced to surrender with his entire army at 
 Charleston only six weeks before. Green was engaged 
 with the army in the Carolinas; Gates was a coward; 
 Lee, a traitor. In the important operations which 
 were soon to take place with the main army in the 
 vicinity of New York, Arnold was the leader best 
 qualified for the task. Washington took extreme de- 
 light in appointing him to the command of the Right 
 Wing of his own army and the Second in Command of 
 the Continental forces. 
 
 It was with genuine reluctance that he consented to 
 listen to the strange story as unfolded by his aide-de- 
 camp, Captain Meagher. That General Arnold should 
 openly countenance rebellion was preposterous; to be- 
 come a party to it was incredible. Yet the veracity of
 
 360 THE LOYALIST 
 
 his aide was unquestionable, and the wealth of evidence 
 which he had presented left little room for doubt. 
 Still Washington's faith was unshaken. He felt as- 
 sured that his favorite General would redeem himself 
 when the proper time came. And every encourage- 
 ment for this redemption would be afforded him. 
 
 West Point was open. He would recall the order 
 appointing him to the command of the army and make 
 him commander of the fortification there. The exi- 
 gencies of the times required a man of rare ability and 
 genius at this post. Should there prove to be a shadow 
 of truth in the allegations of his aide, the change of 
 command would simplify the situation from whatever 
 viewpoint it might be regarded. The country might 
 be preserved, and Arnold's ambition at the same time 
 given another opportunity. 
 
 Stephen ruminated over these events as he rode lei- 
 surely along. A genuine satisfaction was derived from 
 the knowledge that his chief's confidence in him was 
 still unshaken. He felt that he had effected a change 
 of post for the man whom, above all other men, Wash- 
 ington most admired and respected; nevertheless he 
 felt that at the same time he was only executing a 
 service which would ultimately prove to be of incal- 
 culable value to the army and the nation. Arnold 
 troubled him, but in command of a fortress he would 
 occasion infinitely less worry and apprehension than in 
 a responsible position in the field. 
 
 Marjorie delighted him. At Morristown he had 
 found her letter; and his plans for the immediate pres- 
 ent underwent a decided alteration. He had been 
 ordered to make the journey to Hartford in attend- 
 ance upon General Washington, who had already com- 
 pleted arrangements with Count Rochambeau and
 
 THE LOYALIST 361 
 
 Admiral Ternay of the French navy for a conference 
 there in reference to the proposed naval operations of 
 the combined fleets. With the letter in his hand he 
 had sought and obtained a further leave of absence 
 from his Commander-in-chief in order that his own 
 campaign for the winning of the lady of his heart 
 might be brought to a quick and decisive termination. 
 
 He had left the city, not hurt nor wounded as she 
 had supposed, but somewhat disappointed at the man- 
 ner of her expression. Her apparent coolness and un- 
 concern he had ascribed rather to her extreme diffi- 
 dence and shyness than to want of appreciation or sin- 
 cerity. That she truly cared for him, he knew full 
 well; that he would eventually win her to him was a 
 faltering conviction. But, now, there was no further 
 doubt. She had written him pages into which she had 
 poured out her heart in generous and unmistakable 
 accents, and which he had read and re-read with grow- 
 ing delight. 
 
 Washington could not refuse his request. He made 
 no attempt to conceal the nature of his mission and 
 obtained not alone His Excellency's gracious permis- 
 sion but his sincere wishes for success as well. With a 
 heart buoyant with joy and anticipation he spurred on 
 his mare and pushed her to her worth in the direction 
 of the city and the object of his quest. 
 
 II 
 
 He rode into the city well aware that the first news 
 to reach him would be that of the exodus of the 
 Arnolds. 
 
 "You came straight through town, I suppose?" 
 
 "Yes," replied Stephen.
 
 362 THE LOYALIST 
 
 "And came here direct?" continued Mr. Allison. 
 
 "I quartered my mare, first. I thought immediately 
 of the Inn as the place to gather the news. So I 
 hastened hither." 
 
 "There's been heaps doin'," Jim remarked casually. 
 
 "Never saw such excitement since the day of the 
 regiment," observed the keeper of the Inn, a well- 
 mannered and well-educated gentleman, above middle 
 age, who held the enviable position of inn-keeper and 
 lawyer alike. Every inn-keeper of this age commanded 
 much of respect in the community, for it was he who 
 received the money of the people, and money com- 
 manded the necessities of life a good bed, good 
 things to eat, attentive servants; but Mr. Smith, the 
 keeper of the Old London Coffee House, was the most 
 respectable inn-keeper in the city, the proud possessor 
 of a very pretty library and an excellent table where 
 cleanliness and decency vied with dignity and self- 
 respect. 
 
 "Arnold, you know, has left the city," volunteered 
 Mr. Allison. 
 
 "Yes, I have surmised," was the reply. 
 
 "Gone, an' all belongin' to 'im." 
 
 "And closed his mansion?" Stephen inquired. 
 
 "Tight. Mrs. Arnold went with him. They left 
 yesterday." 
 
 "But I thought " 
 
 "To the army? I understand he had been ap- 
 pointed to field duty under Washington. Second in 
 Command, they say. But that has been changed. He 
 has gone to West Point." 
 
 Stephen did not answer. 
 
 "It seems," went on Mr. Allison, "that he has been 
 seeking a change of post for several months. His leg
 
 THE LOYALIST 363 
 
 still bothers him, however, and very likely prevented 
 him from doing active duty in the field. On that ac- 
 count, it has been said, he was given charge of the 
 fortress. It is an important post, nevertheless, and 
 carries with it a certain amount of distinction." 
 
 "Hope he gits along better with 'em up there 'n he 
 did here," remarked Jim. "He won't hev the s'ciety 
 folks t' bother 'im now." 
 
 "When did he leave?" 
 
 "No one knows. There was no demonstration of- 
 any kind. It differed much from the farewell of Gen- 
 eral Howe. Arnold left in disgrace, it would seem," 
 said the Inn-keeper, as he moved away to give his at- 
 tention to other business. 
 
 "And Peggy gone, too?" Stephen was genuinely 
 surprised at this, for he rather expected that she would 
 remain with her mother. 
 
 "I am sure that the majority of our people are 
 greatly pleased at the change," said Mr. Allison. "I 
 never saw one sink to such depths of contempt. He 
 came to the city as Military Governor in a blaze of 
 triumph, the most celebrated soldier in the army, whose 
 rise to popular esteem was only accelerated by the 
 knowledge of the harsh treatment received by him at 
 the hands of Congress after the battle of Saratoga. 
 He was the idol alike of soldiers and civilians. Their 
 hearts were his without the asking. That was two 
 years ago. Today he left the city in the fullness of 
 his years, in secret, after so many plaudits, in obloquy, 
 after so much honor." 
 
 "It is a sad commentary on human nature," Stephen 
 observed. "Yet in all things else I blame the woman. 
 'Cherchez la femme.' ' 
 
 The room already was reeky from the clouds of
 
 364 THE LOYALIST 
 
 tobacco smoke streaming upwards from the pipes of 
 the several guests who were lounging in small groups 
 about the room. There were severaljDarties in as many 
 corners, each wholly unconcerned about the other. The 
 conversation of our trio was therefore private insofar 
 as any privacy can be expected in an inn. Only the 
 boisterous individual made himself heard, and then 
 only to the displeasure of the others. 
 
 Leaving the two at the Inn, Stephen bade them adieu 
 and directed his journey in the direction of Second 
 Street. Hastening his steps he soon reached the 
 Germantown road, and as he turned the bend perceived 
 the familiar outline of the Allison home. Little did he 
 suspect, however, that the curtains of one of the upper 
 windows concealed a lithe form and that his swift gait 
 was being interpreted with a world of meaning. He 
 laid his hand on the gate, and even then Marjorie had 
 opened the door to meet him. 
 
 Ill 
 
 "First of all," she said, "how long may you remain? 
 Will you dine with us, or what?" 
 
 "I shall be most pleased. I have several days. His 
 Excellency has gone to Hartford to engage in confer- 
 ence. It was intended that I should accompany the 
 staff. I begged leave, however, to return to Philadel- 
 phia." 
 
 They were seated on the sofa in the distant corner 
 of the parlor. They were quite alone now for the first 
 time, the mother having asked to be excused after 
 many minutes with the announcement that since he 
 would be pleased to remain, the supper must needs be
 
 THE LOYALIST 365 
 
 prepared. No, Marjorie need not help her. She 
 might entertain Captain Meagher. 
 
 "It's glorious to see you again," he said, sitting down 
 beside her after Mrs. Allison had departed from the 
 room. 
 
 "I am glad you have come," she replied softly, rub- 
 bing her hand across her apron as if to arrange it 
 neatly. 
 
 "But you knew that I would come, didn't you?" 
 
 "I thought so." 
 
 "And yet I greatly feared that it would not be pos- 
 sible. Preparations are being made for the final cam- 
 paign, and it is expected that the French will be asked 
 to play an important part." 
 
 "It was very generous of His Excellency to grant 
 you leave." 
 
 He began to smile. 
 
 "Could you guess how I obtained it?" he asked. 
 
 She turned to regard him. 
 
 "What have you done?" she asked soberly. 
 
 "Showed him your letter." 
 
 "Stephen!" she gasped as she drew back. 
 
 Neither spoke. He continued to smile at her ap- 
 parent concern, while she stared at him. 
 
 "Do you mean it?" she asked; then quickly "or 
 are you teasing?" 
 
 "I did. I showed the letter to him, and asked if I 
 might return to you." 
 
 "He read it?" 
 
 "There! There! I am joking. He did not read 
 it, but I did have it in my hand, and I told him about 
 you and that I was going back to take you with me." 
 
 Satisfied, she allowed herself to assume a more re- 
 laxed composure.
 
 3 66 THE LOYALIST 
 
 . "You are going to destroy it, aren't you?" 
 
 He took it from his pocket and looked at it. She, 
 too, glanced at it, and then at him. 
 
 "May I keep it? I treasure every word of it, you 
 know." 
 
 "Did you but know how it was composed, you might 
 ridicule me." 
 
 "I suppose you closed yourself behind some great 
 veil to shut out the world from your view. Your mind 
 toiled with thought until you were resolved upon the 
 heroic. There was no scheme nor formula; your quill 
 ran on and on in obedience to the flood of ideas which 
 inspired it." 
 
 She lapsed into meditation; but she recovered her- 
 self immediately. 
 
 "No," she shook her head slowly though steadily. 
 "At midnight with the aid of a little candle which 
 burned itself out quite before the end." 
 
 He looked up sharply. 
 
 "That night?" 
 
 She nodded. 
 
 He put his arms around her and drew her close. 
 She made no resistance, but allowed herself to fall into 
 his embrace. 
 
 "Marjoriel" he whispered. 
 
 She yielded both her hands to his grasp and felt 
 them compressed within it. 
 
 "You were not hurt at my seeming indiscretion?" 
 
 "I told you in my letter that I was not." 
 
 "Then you do love me?" 
 
 She drew back a little as if to glance at him. 
 
 "You know that I do," was the soft, reassuring 
 answer. 
 
 "Won't you let me hear you say it?" he pleaded.
 
 THE LOYALIST 367 
 
 Reaching out, she put both arms about him and 
 offered her lips to his, whispering at the same time 
 only what he was destined to hear. 
 
 Presently the old clock began to strike the hour of 
 five.
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 "Father! Father! Where are you? Arnold has 
 betrayed! He has betrayed his country!" 
 
 Breathless, Marjorie rushed into the hallway, leav- 
 ing the door ajar behind her. It was late in the after- 
 noon of a September day. The air was soft and hazy, 
 tempered with just the chill of evening that comes at 
 this time of the year before sundown. 
 
 More than two months had passed, months crowded 
 with happiness which had filled her life with fancy. 
 Her engagement to Captain Meagher had been an- 
 nounced, quietly and simply; their marriage was to 
 take place in the fall. Day after day sped by and hid 
 themselves in the records of time until the event, anx- 
 iously awaited, yet equally dreaded, was but a bare 
 month distant. It would be a quiet affair after all, 
 with no ostentation or display; but that would in no 
 wise prevent her from looking her prettiest. 
 
 And so on this September afternoon while she was 
 visiting the shops for the purpose of discovering what- 
 ever tempting and choice bits of ware they might have 
 to offer, she thought she heard the blast of a trumpet 
 from the direction of the balcony of the old Governor's 
 Mansion. Attracted by the sound, which recalled to 
 her mind a former occasion when the news of the 
 battle of Monmouth was brought to the city by courier 
 and announced to the public, she quickened her steps 
 
 368
 
 THE LOYALIST 369 
 
 in the direction of the venerable building. True, a 
 man was addressing the people who had congregated 
 beneath the balcony. Straining every faculty she 
 caught the awful news. 
 
 Straightway she sped homewards, running as often 
 as her panting breath would allow. She did not wait 
 to open the door, but seemed to burst through it. 
 
 "What was that, child?" her father asked quickly 
 as he met her in the dining-room. 
 
 "Arnold . . . Arnold . . ." she repeated, waiting 
 to catch her breath. 
 
 "Has betrayed, you. say?" 
 
 "West Point." 
 
 "My God! We are lost." 
 
 He threw his hands heavenwards and started across 
 the floor. 
 
 "What is it, Marjorie?" asked the mother, who 
 now stood in the passageway, a corner of her apron 
 held in both hands, a look of wonder and suspicion full 
 upon her. 
 
 "No, Father!" the girl replied, apparently heedless 
 of her mother's presence, "West Point is saved. Ar- 
 nold has gone." 
 
 "Let him go. But West Point is still ours? Thank 
 God! He is with the British, I suppose?" 
 
 "So they say. The plot was discovered in the nick 
 of time. His accomplice was captured and the papers 
 found upon him." 
 
 "When did this happen?" 
 
 "Only a few days ago. The courier was dispatched 
 at once to the members of Congress. The message 
 was delivered today." 
 
 "And General Arnold tried to sell West Point to 
 the British?" commented Mrs. Allison, who had lis-
 
 370 THE LOYALIST 
 
 tened as long as possible to the disconnected story. 
 "A scoundrel of a man." 
 
 "Three Americans arrested a suspicious man in the 
 neighborhood of Tarrytown. Upon searching him 
 they discovered some papers in the handwriting of 
 Arnold containing descriptions of the fortress. They 
 took him for a spy." 
 
 "I thought as much," said Mrs. Allison. "Didn't 
 I tell you that Arnold would do something like that? 
 I knew it. I knew it." 
 
 "Thank God he is not one of us," was Mr. Allison's 
 grave reply. "His act would only serve to fan into 
 fury the dormant flames of Pope Day." 
 
 "This is an act of vengeance," Marjorie reflected. 
 "He never forgot his court-martial, and evidently 
 sought his country's ruin in revenge. Adversities he 
 could contend with; humiliation he could not endure." 
 
 The little group presented a varied scene. The girl, 
 young, tender, was plainly animated with a strong 
 undercurrent of excitement which thrilled her entire 
 frame, flushing her cheeks and sparkling in her eyes. 
 Her tender years, her inexperience with the world, her 
 guileless mind and frank open manner had not yet pre- 
 pared her for the enormity of the crime which had of a 
 sudden been flashed full upon her. For the moment 
 realization had given way to wonder. She sensed only 
 the magnitude of the tragedy without its atrocious and 
 more insidious details. On the other hand there was 
 the father, composed and imperturbable, to whom the 
 disclosure of this scheme of the blackest treason was 
 but another chapter added to the year of disasters 
 which was just coming to a close. His more astute 
 mind, schooled by long experience with the world and 
 its artifices, had taught him to view the transit of
 
 THE LOYALIST 371 
 
 events with a certain philosophy, a sort of pragmatic 
 philosophy, with reference to the causes and the results 
 of events and how they bore on the practical utility of 
 all concerned; and finally the mother, who in her de- 
 vout and pious way, saw only the Holy Will of God 
 working in all things for His own praise and glory. 
 
 "And they found the dispatches in his own writ- 
 ing?" the father asked deliberately. 
 
 "In his stockings, beneath the soles of his feet." 
 
 Again there was silence. 
 
 "He is a prisoner?" 
 
 "Of course. He was arrested for a spy. They say 
 he is an Adjutant in the British army. He was in full 
 disguise." 
 
 "Hm!" 
 
 Mr. Allison set his lips. 
 
 "I think," continued Marjorie, "that it was the effect 
 of a stroke of good fortune. He was taken by three 
 men who were lying in wait for robbers. Otherwise 
 he might have continued his journey in safety and the 
 plot would have succeeded." 
 
 "Thank God and His Blessed Mother!" breathed 
 Mrs. Allison as she clasped her hands together before 
 her in an attitude of prayer. 
 
 "And Arnold?" methodically asked Mr. Allison. 
 
 "He escaped to the British lines. I do not know 
 how, but it seems that he has departed. The one im- 
 portant item, which pleased and interested the people, 
 was the capture of the spy and the frustration of the 
 plot." 
 
 The father left the chair and began to pace the 
 room, his hands behind him. 
 
 "It is a bad blow. Too bad! Too bad!" he re- 
 peated. "I do not like it, for it will destroy the cour
 
 372 THE LOYALIST 
 
 age and confidence of our people. Arnold was the idol 
 of the army, and I fear that his defection will create a 
 great change of heart." 
 
 "The army will be better off without him," said Mrs. 
 Allison. 
 
 "I agree with you," was the reply. "But the people 
 may decide in a different manner. There is reason for 
 worry." 
 
 "What was the effect of Lee's attempted treason?" 
 spoke up Marjorie. "The people loathe him, and he 
 will die an outcast." 
 
 "There is no punishment too severe for Lee. He 
 has been from the start nothing but a selfish adven- 
 turer. But the cases are not parallel. Lee was never 
 popular with the army. Arnold, you must remember, 
 was the most successful leader in the field and the 
 officer most prized by the Commander-in-chief." 
 
 "Nevertheless he will sink as fast as he climbed, I 
 think. The country must not tolerate a traitor." 
 
 "Must not! But will not the circumstance alter the 
 case? I say that unless the proofs of Arnold's treason 
 are irrefutable, the people will be slow to believe. I 
 don't like it. I don't." 
 
 There was some logic in his argument which began 
 to impress Marjorie. Arnold could exercise a tre- 
 mendous amount of influence over the army. Whether 
 the strings of loyalty which had united their hearts 
 with his would be now snapped by his act of perfidy 
 was the mooted question. As a matter of fact a spirit 
 of mutiny already was beginning to make itself mani- 
 fest. The soldiers of Pennsylvania who were en- 
 camped on the heights of Morristown marched out of 
 camp the following January and set out for Philadel- 
 phia. They were rebuked by Washington, who sent a
 
 THE LOYALIST 373 
 
 letter by General Wayne, whereupon they returned to 
 their posts. Later in the same month another mutiny 
 occurred among the New Jersey troops, but this, too, 
 was quickly suppressed. Just how much responsibility 
 for these uprisings might be traced to the treason of 
 Arnold can not be estimated. There is no question, 
 however, that his act was not wholly unproductive of 
 its psychological effects. 
 
 "I feel so sorry for Peggy," Marjorie sighed. 
 
 "The young wife has a sore burden thrown upon 
 her. A sorry day it was when she met him," was Mrs. 
 Allison's comment. 
 
 "Strange, I never suspected Peggy for a moment," 
 Marjorie said. "I had been raised with her and 
 thought we knew each other. I am sorry, very sorry." 
 
 "We do not know how much she is concerned with 
 this," announced Mr. Allison, "but her ambition knew 
 no restraint or limitation. She has her peerage now." 
 
 "And her husband?" 
 
 "The grave of a traitor, the sole immortality of 
 degraded ambition, religious prejudice, treason and 
 infamy." 
 
 "God help him!" exclaimed Mrs. Allison. 
 
 II 
 
 In July, 1780, General Arnold had been placed in 
 command of West Point; two months later he was safe 
 on board the British sloop-of-war, Vulture. He had 
 attempted to betray his country; he received in ex- 
 change six thousand pounds sterling, together with a 
 brigadiership in the British Army. 
 
 From the time he left Philadelphia until the morn- 
 ing of his flight he had kept up a continual correspond-
 
 374 THE LOYALIST 
 
 ence with John Anderson. Information was at length 
 conveyed to him that Sir Henry Clinton was in posses- 
 sion of advices that the American Commander-in-chief 
 contemplated an advance on New York by way of 
 King's Bridge. Clinton's scheme would allow the army 
 of General Washington to move upon the city, having 
 collected all his magazines at the fortification at West 
 Point, but at a given moment Arnold was expected to 
 surrender the fort and garrison and compel the army 
 of Washington to retire immediately or else suffer 
 capture in the field. 
 
 Still Arnold felt that everything was not quite settled 
 between Sir Henry and himself, and wrote accordingly, 
 advising that a written guarantee be forwarded or de- 
 livered in person to him by an officer of Sir Henry's 
 staff of his own mensuration. He was informed by 
 way of reply that the necessary meeting might be 
 arranged, and that the emissary would be the Adjutant' 
 General of the British Army. 
 
 Accordingly the British sloop Vulture moved up the 
 river as far as Stony Point, bearing the Adjutant- 
 General. Arnold had fixed on the house of Joshua 
 Smith as the place for the meeting. On the night of 
 the twenty-first of September, he sent a boat to the 
 Vulture which brought the emissary shore. In a thick 
 grove of cedars, in the shroud of the blackest night, 
 Arnold waited the return of the rowboat, its oars 
 muffled with sheepskins, its passenger on board. The 
 latter sprang lightly to the shore, his large blue watch- 
 coat and high boots alone visible. As he climbed the 
 bank and approached the grove, he threw back his 
 cloak and revealed the full British uniform of a gen- 
 eral officer. 
 
 "Anderson?" Arnold exclaimed. "You?"
 
 THE LOYALIST 375 
 
 "No ! Andre, Major Andre," was the reply. 
 
 "Hm! I thought as much. I suspected you from 
 the moment I met you in Philadelphia." 
 
 "Come. Let us finish. I must return before day- 
 break." 
 
 "Where is your disguise? I advised you to come in 
 disguise." 
 
 He understood the piercing glance. 
 
 "I have come thus under General Clinton's orders," 
 was the reply. "My safety lies in open uniform." 
 
 "Let it go at that. Here! I have with me the 
 plans of West Point, together with a full inventory of 
 its armament and stores and a roster of its garrison." 
 
 Andre took the papers and glanced at them as best 
 he could by means of the lantern light. 
 
 "But I do not see here a written promise to sur- 
 render the fortress?" 
 
 "No! Nor, by Heaven, you shall not receive it," 
 Arnold snapped. "I have given my word. That is 
 enough. I have already placed myself in your hands 
 by these plans and inventories made in my own hand- 
 writing. This is all. . . . No more." 
 
 "General Washington visits here on Saturday?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "The surrender must take place that night." 
 
 Arnold looked fiercely at him. This was one matter 
 which seemed intolerable. To betray his country was. 
 treason; to betray his sole friend and benefactor was 
 unknown to him by any name in the English language. 
 He refused absolutely. Andre insisted, and the dis- 
 cussion became violent. 
 
 Neither became aware of the dawn which was about 
 to break through the thicket of fir-trees which bounded 
 the opposite bank of the Hudson. Still the details had
 
 376 THE LOYALIST 
 
 not been arranged; the matter of Arnold's reward was 
 still unsettled. There had been various promises of 
 compensation, maintenance of military rank, a peer- 
 age or a viceroyalty in one of the colonies, but Andre 
 was empowered to offer no more than compensation 
 and military rank. With the dawning light, the boat- 
 men became alarmed and refused to take Andre back 
 to his ship, with the result that the two conspirators 
 were obliged to pass the time until the next night in 
 the house of Joshua Smith. 
 
 It so happened that the day brought to pass an un- 
 foreseen accident. Livingston, the Colonel of "Con- 
 gress' Own," in command of the batteries on the op- 
 posite side of the river at Verplanck's Point, opened 
 fire upon the Vulture, compelling her to drop down 
 the river. It was necessary, therefore, for Major 
 Andre to proceed by land down the opposite shore 
 until he had met with his vessel, and so late at night 
 he departed, his uniform and coat exchanged for a 
 disguise, the six papers in Arnold's handwriting 
 crammed between his stockings and feet. 
 
 It also happened, by a strange irony of fate, that a 
 party of American soldiers had set out that very morn- 
 ing to intercept a band of robbers who had infested 
 the roadways of this neighborhood, and who had ren- 
 dered the highways impassable because of their dep- 
 redations. Near Tarrytown, three of this party con- 
 fronted a passing traveler, and leveling their muskets 
 at him, ordered him to halt. They were obeyed on 
 the instant, and because of the suspicious manner of 
 the stranger, a complete search of him was made. The 
 set of papers was found in their hiding place, and he 
 was placed under arrest, and sent to North Castle. 
 There the papers were examined, and instead of being
 
 THE LOYALIST 377 
 
 sent to General Arnold himself, were forwarded to 
 His Excellency, who was known to be lodged at West 
 Point. At the same time a complementary letter was 
 sent to General Arnold, informing him of what had 
 taken place. 
 
 He was at breakfast when the news was brought 
 him. The letter was crumbled in his hand as he hastily 
 arose from the table and rushed to Peggy's room where 
 he acquainted her of his fate. She screamed and 
 fainted. He stooped to kiss his sleeping child; then 
 rushing from the house was soon mounted and on his 
 way to the place where he knew a barge had been 
 anchored. Jumping aboard he ordered the oarsmen 
 to take him to the Vulture, eighteen miles down the 
 river. Next morning he was safe within the enemy's 
 lines at New York. 
 
 ill 
 
 The minute details of the attempted plot had not 
 filtered into Philadelphia when a demonstration had 
 begun in celebration of its frustration. Spontaneously 
 and exuberantly the citizens of the city gathered in 
 the public square and for several hours the joy-making 
 continued with unabated energy and enthusiasm. Like 
 a flash it seemed that the full realization of what this 
 news had meant broke like a rushing tide upon their 
 consciousness. The country had been threatened; but 
 the danger had been averted. 
 
 In a few hours the streets were mad with hundreds 
 of people singing and shouting and marching in unre- 
 strained glee. Bulletins had been posted in the public 
 square acquainting the people of the great facts, yet 
 this did not begin to equal the amount of news which
 
 378 THE LOYALIST 
 
 had been relayed from mouth to mouth and grew in 
 detail and magnitude as it went. Chains, trays, broken 
 iron were dragged in rattling bundles up and down the 
 streets amid the laughs and cheers of the mass of hu- 
 manity that had swarmed upon the roadways and side- 
 walks. 
 
 Marjorie and her father were among the early ar- 
 rivals on Market Street. Little by little items of in- 
 formation came to them as they alternately talked with 
 their many acquaintances. Out of the many and varied 
 accounts one or two points had stood out prominently 
 Arnold had attempted to surrender the fortress 
 while Washington was lodged there in the hope that 
 complete disaster would befall the American cause; he 
 had completed negotiations with the British emissary, 
 who was known as Major Andre, whom the people of 
 Philadelphia associated with the person of John Ander- 
 son, a frequent visitor of the Arnolds during their stay 
 in the city; the officer had been taken prisoner by the 
 American forces and the papers found upon him; while 
 Arnold and his wife had escaped to the British forces 
 in the city of New York. 
 
 When the gayety seemed to have attained its climax, 
 a procession began to wend its way through the howl- 
 ing crowd. There was no attempt at regular forma- 
 tion, the multitude trailing along in whatever order 
 seemed most desirable to them. In the midst of the 
 line of march, two gaunt figures towered aloft over 
 the heads of the marchers, the one bearing a placard 
 upon which was scrawled the name "Arnold the 
 traitor," the other, "Andre the spy." These were 
 carried with great acclaim several times around the 
 city until the procession rested at the square, where 
 amid cheers and huzzas they were publicly burned.
 
 THE LOYALIST 379 
 
 This seemed to satisfy the crowd, for they gradually 
 began to disperse. The hour was late and Marjorie 
 and her father journeyed homewards, passing the 
 watchman at the corner as he announced the hour, 
 "Eleven o'clock and Arnold is burned." 
 
 The state bordering on frenzy into which the mob 
 had been cast was responsible, for the most part, for 
 the violence of the celebration, nevertheless there 
 stood many sober and composed individuals apart from 
 the ranks who had looked on in silent acquiescence 
 during the riotous proceedings. Arnold had fallen to 
 the lowest ebb of infamy and contempt so that even 
 his past services were entirely forgotten. There was 
 no palliation. There were no extenuating circum- 
 stances. The enormity of his crime alone mattered. 
 His name could not be mentioned without a shudder. 
 
 Mount Pleasant was not permitted to remain idle. 
 It soon was seized by the city authorities and rented 
 to Baron Steuben, the disciplinarian of the American 
 Army and the author of its first Manual of Arms. 
 The household furniture, too, had been removed and 
 offered for sale at public auction, while the coach and 
 four was bought by a trader at the Coffee House. 
 Arnold's presence in the city was now no more than a 
 memory a memory, indeed, but a sad one. 
 
 "He would never escape the fury of that crowd," 
 Mr. Allison observed to his daughter as the two jour- 
 neyed homewards. 
 
 "They would surely put him to death." 
 
 "If they ever lay hands on him they might perhaps 
 cut off his wounded leg, but the rest of him they would 
 burn." 
 
 She considered. 
 
 "I can scarce believe it it seems too awful."
 
 380 THE LOYALIST 
 
 "Well ! I never could see much good in a bigot. A 
 man with a truly broad and charitable soul has no 
 room in him for base designs. Arnold would crucify 
 us if he could, yet we have lived to see him repudiated 
 by his own." 
 
 "It does seem after all that God takes care of His 
 own. Even the sparrow does not fall to the ground." 
 
 Plainly the spirit of the evening had awakened a 
 serious vein of thought in the two. They could take 
 no delight in a tragedy so intimately interwoven with 
 pity and compassion. The fate of the two principal 
 actors, the courageous Arnold and the ambitious 
 Andre, erstwhile known as Anderson, could not fail to 
 touch their hearts. Their lot was not enviable; but it 
 was lamentable. 
 
 "And John Anderson, too," said Marjorie, "I can- 
 not believe it." 
 
 "When the truth is known, I am of the opinion that 
 he will be more pitied and less condemned. Arnold 
 was the chief actor. Andre a mere pawn." 
 
 "How brilliant he was! You remember his visits? 
 The afternoon at the piano?" 
 
 "Yes. He was talented. But to what purpose?" 
 
 "I am sorry." 
 
 And so were the many.
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 "Stephen, wilt thou take Marjorie here present for 
 thy lawful wife, according to the rite of our Holy 
 Mother, the Church?" 
 
 Audibly and distinctly icsounded the voice of Father 
 Farmer throughout the little church as he read from 
 the Roman Ritual the form of the sacrament of Matri- 
 mony. 
 
 "I will," answered Stephen deliberately. 
 
 "Marjorie, wilt thou take Stephen here present for 
 thy lawful husband, according to the rite of our Holy 
 Mother, the Church?" 
 
 "I will," was the soft response. 
 
 The two then joined their right hands and repeated 
 one after the other the pledge by which they took each 
 other for man and wife; Stephen first, then Marjorie. 
 
 "I, Stephen, take thee Marjorie for my lawful wife, 
 to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, 
 for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in 
 health, until death do us part." 
 
 Solemnly and reverently the priest raised his right 
 hand over them as he pronounced the blessing. 
 
 "Ego conjungo vos in matrimonium, in nomine 
 Patris et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti, Amen." 
 
 The ring having been blessed before them, Stephen 
 placed it on Marjorie's finger saying the prescribed 
 words, after which they awaited the prayers of the 
 
 381
 
 382 THE LOYALIST 
 
 priest. Father Farmer turned to the altar and at once 
 began the Nuptial Mass, according to the ceremony of 
 the Catholic Church, and pronounced over them the 
 Nuptial Blessing. 
 
 This made an end of the marriage ceremony. 
 
 It would be difficult to describe the feelings of Mar- 
 jorie as she turned from the sanctuary and made her 
 way down the aisle of the little church. Her hand lay 
 on Stephen's arm, but it seemed to her as if she were 
 hanging from it. She was happy; that, of course. But 
 she thought, too, that she was extremely nervous, and 
 the more she thought over herself, the more she felt 
 that she appeared extremely self-conscious. 
 
 The church was quite filled with friends, yet she 
 dared not look up to measure its capacity, but guarded 
 her eyes with the strictest custody. The organ was 
 playing an appropriate march which she tried to follow 
 in her mind in order that she might thereby absorb the 
 greater part of her attention. Stephen was with her, 
 for she could feel him, although she was quite certain 
 that she never laid an eye on him during the whole 
 time. Her people were there, so were her many friends 
 and acquaintances, and Stephen's relatives and friends 
 as well, but these, too, were absent as far as her con- 
 centration of mind was concerned. Only one thought 
 was uppermost in her mind and that was to leave the 
 church as soon as possible, for she felt that every eye 
 was focused upon her. 
 
 It had been intended that the affair should be charm- 
 ingly simple, both on account of the sad and melan- 
 choly days through which the country was passing and 
 the natural tendencies of the parties concerned to avoid 
 all semblance of display. Their names had been pub-
 
 THE LOYALIST 383 
 
 lished at three public masses; the Catholic Church re- 
 quired that. They had been married by Father Farmer 
 with a nuptial high mass. The wedding breakfast 
 would be served at the home of the bride. But the 
 number of invited guests would be limited strictly to 
 the members of the family and one or two intimate 
 friends so as to include Jim Cadwalader and Sergeant 
 Griffin. Furthermore there would be no honeymoon 
 on account of the uncertainty which invariably had 
 defined the duration of Stephen's stay in the city. 
 
 It was only when the little party, Marjorie and 
 Stephen's sister, her maid of honor, and Stephen and 
 Sergeant Griffin, his best man, had settled down into 
 the coach, that Marjorie for the first time became com- 
 posed. A great sigh of relief escaped from her as she 
 sat back, her bouquet In her hand, and looked at the 
 dispersing crowd. She could not tell yet whether she 
 was happy or not; the excitement had not subsided 
 enough to allow her to regain her self-possession and 
 equanimity. Stephen was by her side. That was 
 about all she knew, or cared. 
 
 Stephen was in his characteristically reticent mood. 
 Already had he observed that he would have endured 
 another Valley Forge with greater pleasure than the 
 ordeal of a wedding ceremony. Still he was nicely 
 dressed for the occasion, wearing for the first time a 
 new full dress uniform of buff and blue. The inter- 
 ested spectator might have discerned, too, that he 
 wore for the first time a new insignia of rank; for he 
 was now a Major of the Continental Army, having 
 received that promotion, upon the recommendation of 
 His Excellency, for distinguished service, together with 
 a warm message of congratulation upon his approach- 
 ing marriage. Nevertheless he was unmoved through
 
 3 84 THE LOYALIST 
 
 it all, betraying but one concern, and that was admin- 
 istration to the most trivial wants of his blushing and 
 timid bride. 
 
 It was the time of joy, of pure, unalloyed joy, yet 
 he could not banish altogether from his mind the mem- 
 ories of the past two years, years crowded with events 
 in his life and that of his beloved. There was, indeed, 
 much to be thankful for, and notwithstanding his ex- 
 ceedingly great glee and the day of gladness which had 
 dawned for him flooding his heart with exultation and 
 complacent satisfaction, still a prayer of praise poured 
 forth from his lips to the Giver of every best and 
 perfect gift. 
 
 The American Revolution had unfolded a wonder- 
 ful story, a story of anti-Catholicism, of persecution 
 and prejudice which had resolved itself step by step 
 into a state of complete freedom of action and re- 
 ligious liberty. The Church was at length free, free 
 to gather her children into congregations where she 
 might speak to them and instruct them without any 
 fear. Now she was at liberty to fulfill her mission of 
 winning souls to Christ. True, her children were widely 
 scattered, a bare twenty-five thousand out of a popula- 
 tion of about three millions, whose wants were admin- 
 istered to by no more than twenty-five priests. Yet out 
 of this contemptible little body there emerged a people, 
 honorable, respectable, and of such consequence as to 
 deserve commendation from the First President for 
 "the patriotic part which you took in the accomplish- 
 ment of their Revolution and the establishment of your 
 government," as well as causing to be inserted in the 
 Constitution of the new republic the clause that "no re- 
 ligious test shall ever be required as a qualification for 
 any office or public trust under the United States."
 
 THE LOYALIST 385 
 
 There was of course much to be desired; but the foun- 
 dations had been laid, and the prospect for the future 
 was auspicious. 
 
 And so they rode through the city streets joyfully, 
 merrily, light-heartedly. Conversation, interspersed 
 with laughter and jocularity, literally ran riot, so im- 
 patiently did each attempt to relate what was upper- 
 most in his or her mind. The ceremony, the music, 
 the procession, the multitude obtained their due amount 
 of comment, until the arrival of the coach at the door 
 of the Allison home put an end to the session. 
 
 II 
 
 "A health, ladies and gentlemen, to the bride. May 
 she live long and never form the acquaintanceship of 
 sorrow!" 
 
 Stephen's father had arisen from his chair and with 
 his goblet held before him addressed the company. 
 
 It was drunk with evident pleasure. Then Mr. Alli- 
 son arose. 
 
 "To Major Meagher, that his brilliant career be 
 only the commencement of a life of extraordinary 
 achievement!" 
 
 This was followed by a round of applause. Stephen 
 smiled and bowed his head, but it was plain to be seen 
 that his father's chest had expanded more than an 
 appreciable trifle. Marjorie was happy and whispered 
 a word to her newly formed sister-in-law who was 
 seated by her side. It was a jolly group who had sur- 
 rounded the table, all bent on doing honor to the happy 
 couple, but none appeared more so than Jim Cadwala- 
 der and his wife, Nancy. 
 
 "I tell you," said Jim, "they're a right fine pair."
 
 3 86 THE LOYALIST 
 
 "I am afraid, Jim, you have not forgiven me quite 
 for excluding you from that meeting," Stephen sug- 
 gested. 
 
 "I'm the proud'st man this side o' the river t' think 
 I gave y' me clothes. Y'd never got on widout me."" 
 
 There was an outburst of laughter. 
 
 "You would have been captured, had you gone in 
 there. I saved you." 
 
 "Yes, an' the girl, there, did it. Don't ye furgit 
 that, either. I'll tell on y'," replied Jim, nodding his 
 head emphatically. "She got me caught." 
 
 "Jim!" Marjorie exclaimed loudly. 
 
 "Now do not lay the blame on her," Stephen cau- 
 tioned with a smile. "You yourself were only too anx- 
 ious to get there. You wanted to see yourself in a new 
 uniform." 
 
 "I did, then. I was terr'bly anxious t' see meself 
 in a red suit, wasn't I?" 
 
 The company enjoyed this exchange of repartee and 
 laughed continually. Jim ever enjoyed the distinction 
 of being tormented by the members of whatever gath- 
 ering he was in, yet it was never known when he was 
 powerless of providing for himself. 
 
 And so they talked far into the morning. They sat 
 in groups of twos and threes, long after the table had 
 been cleared, while the willing helpers, the good neigh- 
 bors, plied themselves industriously out in the kitchen 
 with the cleaning of the dishes and the restoration of 
 the house again to its proper order. Marjorie and her 
 mother looked in through the doorway from time to 
 time at the progress of the work, only to be banished 
 as quickly by the cohort of willing toilers. For once 
 in their lives the girl and her fond mother mingled
 
 THE LOYALIST 387 
 
 entirely with the guests and took their full measure of 
 enjoyment with the company. 
 
 As the guests departed one after the other, leaving 
 behind them many benedictions and choice wishes for 
 the bride and groom, the house settled down to its 
 accustomed quietude and uniformity with the imme- 
 diate family, Jim and his wife alone remaining. Jim, 
 like every recognized master in his own household, sat 
 with his one leg across the other, enjoying his tobacco, 
 while his less aristocratic helpmate took care that the 
 kitchen affairs were given their due amount of atten- 
 tion. With abatement of the excitement and commo- 
 tion the members of the family betook themselves upon 
 various journeys, the father to look at his fire so as to 
 give it, if needed, a few generous pokes; the mother, 
 to the kitchen to add a touch here and there to the 
 arrangement of its utensils; Marjorie to her room in 
 order that she might once more robe herself in her 
 plainer and more habitual apparel. The festivities 
 were at an end and the practical things of life again 
 asserted their stern reality. 
 
 HI 
 
 At length Stephen and Marjorie were alone, alone 
 in their own little world of fancies and dreams. They 
 were standing by the upstairs window looking out at 
 the little fence where they had stood together more 
 than two years before on the afternoon of his arrest. 
 Stephen recalled his impressions of her then, yet she 
 was more beautiful now, he thought. She had changed 
 her gown of white for one of pink, and as she stood 
 there, her lips a little parted in a tiny smile, her soft 
 cheeks heightened in color, her bright eyes looking out
 
 388 THE LOYALIST 
 
 into the memories of the past, she seemed for all the 
 world to Stephen like an enchanted being. 
 
 "What are you thinking of, girlie?" he asked as he 
 stood behind her, his arm about her waist. 
 
 There was no response. 
 
 "Tell me, won't you?" he pleaded. 
 
 She continued to gaze into the roadway. 
 
 "Aren't you happy?" 
 
 "Oh! Yes . . . Yes ... I was never so happy. 
 I ... I ..." 
 
 "What is it? Please, tell me. I fear that you are 
 disturbed over something." 
 
 She did not answer but turned and seized the lapels 
 of his coat with both her hands. Then she raised her 
 face to his and looked straight into his eyes. 
 
 "I was thinking how much I have really cared for 
 you without ever knowing it." 
 
 "Is that all?" he laughed, as he folded his arms 
 about her. 
 
 "And how unkind I have been to you all the while." 
 
 "There! There! You must not say that again. 
 Promise me you will not so much as think it." 
 
 Again there was silence, but only for a moment. 
 
 "But I must have hurt you often. And to think 
 that I never realized it." 
 
 "You are happy now, aren't you?" 
 
 She looked up again with only love in her eyes. 
 
 "Stephen !" she whispered. 
 
 She was lost in his embrace and felt only his breath 
 against her cheek. 
 
 The world lived in them. 
 
 THE END
 
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