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 outlined faintly above it, now on the chintz hangings that covered the window. She could hear her heart, pounding its great weight of bitterness against the pillow; 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 antic.i.p.ation 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. Outside 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."

"Go on. 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 proceeding. The court-martial met, the Regimental Court Martial, with three members.

This was permissible. 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 examined, 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 circ.u.mstances which led to the incident (I would not call it an a.s.sault, 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 occasioned a violent argument. This, I think, was the great mistake I made, for it appeared to make an unfavorable 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 announced that I would repeat the deed under similar circ.u.mstances were the same disrespectful language 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 adjourned."

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.'"

"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 Washington to that effect; and again he would pet.i.tion Congress 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 a man of conviction. Somehow or other I greatly mistrust 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 a.s.sured, 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 a.s.suredly! I decided that they already are on terms of intimacy where secrets now obtain a common value."

"You think that?"

"Well.... I do.... Yes. I know, for instance that he had a letter in his possession which was addressed to her, which letter had its origin in New York."