When Roderick Barclugh left the office of General Arnold, he mounted his horse and took the Germantown road. The hour was just before dawn, and much fatigue after the exciting negotiations with the traitor caused Barclugh to ride briskly, while serious meditations flitted through his brain:

“What will Washington think of Arnold’s request for assignment to West Point? I must pave the way for Arnold’s success. If I could only meet General Washington, being armed with the letter of Robert FitzMaurice, I would encourage the General to favor Arnold and explain away his unrest at Philadelphia. I could praise his deeds at Saratoga; how he longed for active service; his marriage and its financial obligations. The desire to please his wife entangled Arnold in unwarranted expenditures. To assign such a valuable leader to a post away from all allurements of society would preserve a valuable leader for active service after his wound had healed.”

Thus he mused, while his horse alternately galloped and walked, until he realized that the sun had risen, and he found that he had reached the seat of his friend, Dr. William Greydon, who had urged him to stop at Dorminghurst, whenever he should have business that way.

Knowing that he might have greater need of his horse later on in the course of his perilous journey, he considered it wisdom to stop and spend the day for rest and gather his thoughts and energy for a long ride the next day. He also wished to travel incognito and the less he stopped at public houses, the better his purpose was helped along.

To stop at Dorminghurst did not require any length of argument, as Barclugh was young and still susceptible. Neither had he forgotten Miss Mollie Greydon who was at the dinner party of the Financier General; Barclugh recalled her beauty and intellectual qualities.

Riding between the hemlocks to the mansion, Roderick Barclugh was struck with the taste of this American home. As he dismounted he was greeted by the master of the house on the portico, while his horse was attended by a watchful black servant. The welcome he received was in true Colonial fashion:

“At last, Mr. Barclugh, you have made good your promise to break bread with me. I know that you must have risen early, so we can breakfast at once,” was the greeting of Dr. William Greydon.

Turning to the servant, Dr. Greydon continued:

“Care for Mr. Barclugh’s horse and bring his saddle-bags into the house.”

“Really,” replied Barclugh, “starting on this journey last night, I was detained with a friend arranging my business until early morning. I am on a long journey to the Commander-in-Chief at Fishkill, and I thought best to make my journey in short stages at first.”

“You are wise, Mr. Barclugh,” replied his host, “and I am sure Dorminghurst is honored with your presence.” Bowing courteously as Mr. Barclugh entered the great hallway, Dr. Greydon ushered his guest to the staircase, and left him in the hands of a trusted man-servant who led the way to the guest-chamber.

After the customary formalities of presenting himself to his host and family in the library, breakfast was served in the rear hall.

The easy manners of gentlemen’s families during the Revolution were a blessing to travelers. Open houses, hearty welcome to soldiers, was the rule among patriots, and hospitality was as free and unpolluted as sparkling spring water.

What impressed Roderick Barclugh as remarkable, was the frank and unaffected manner in which he was greeted by the daughter and brilliant wife of Dr. Greydon. Their “thee’s” and “thou’s” were not assumed in addressing a guest who happened in; for the Greydons had traveled in Europe, and Dr. Greydon was a graduate in Medicine of Cambridge University.

There is risk to young women in early morning calls. If ever a young woman is seen in her true self, that time is at her own breakfast table. No one appreciated such a fact more keenly than Roderick Barclugh. Therefore, when he presented himself for this early breakfast he greeted Mrs. Greydon and Miss Mollie with these words:

“Miss Mollie, I am surprised to find you astir so early.”

“Why!” exclaimed the young Quakeress, “Mr. Barclugh, I have already translated forty lines of Horace for father, as well as directed the churning for mother.”

“Wonderful! Bravo!! Miss Greydon, I have much respect for the young woman who can combine the graces of odes of the greatest Latin poet along with the duties of domestic economy, and all before breakfast,” exclaimed Barclugh. “I believe, however, that Horace sings of the vine, the bees, the grain, the cattle, and the thrifty housewife. I am really delighted to find some one so practically refined,” continued the guest.Mollie Greydon was a perfectly happy and healthy girl, who enjoyed being busy and useful. She was dressed this morning in a neat and becoming homespun of her father’s loom. Her form was well rounded and her face was animated and possessed of one of those kindly benevolent expressions that are heaven-born. Her eyes were hazel-brown, large and deep-set, which indicated stable character and mental penetration. Her hair was brown, and worn combed back, high and plain.

There was nothing of the ascetic or complaining nature about her. She was a wholesomely good and reasonable girl, ready and willing to accept any station in life in which she happened to be cast,—always ready to perform her full duty, no matter in what sphere. If she were linked to the fortunes of an honorable pioneer or to the luxury of a Colonial gentleman, she would have no grievances. Mollie Greydon was conscious of her ability to render her full duty in life and therefore the equipoise of her countenance and the grace of her mind and body were discernible in whatever she did. She had much energy, but still had discretion to keep much in reserve. She had lively passions and a temper which any worthy person must respect, but the judgment in its use was the work of a master mind. She quarreled with no one but the open enemies of her country, and the advocates of aristocracy. Her young days had been intermingled with all the contemporary men of ideas, since she was her father’s companion, and always at his side. The social and domestic life of Dorminghurst, the intellectual atmosphere of her home, and the advantages of meeting all the distinguished men of the times around her father’s fireside, had rounded out the qualities of a gifted young woman, which she was.

The breakfast was plain and substantial, composed of hominy and milk, and sugar-cured ham, with a corn cake and a cup of coffee; also potatoes that were boiled. Roderick Barclugh had an unerring opportunity to study the bearing of Miss Mollie in all its details. He asked her several pointed questions for the only purpose of sounding her philosophy on current affairs, and on her views of life in the colonies.

Among other questions one was addressed to her with an earnest gaze from Barclugh’s penetrating eyes:

“Miss Mollie, have you no young lady companions near at hand to help you pass the time?”

“No, Mr. Barclugh,” came the prompt and decided answer of the young Quakeress. “I have very few. My father and my mother are my most constant companions. One tutors me in the classics, almost daily, and the other instructs me in all the duties of our household. I am, therefore, very busy at my books, the spinning, the weaving, the oversight of the dairy and the poultry-yards. I have my circle of friends in Philadelphia and I attend some of the entertainments given there; but in these stirring times, when our countrymen need clothes and food, I owe all of my energy to them.”

“Well, well, Miss Greydon, you are truly in earnest about this war. Let me see,” laughingly remarked Barclugh, “do you really believe that the Colonists can possibly succeed in their efforts to win independence? Will not your zeal have been spent in vain?”

“Why, Mr. Barclugh,” came her reply in girlish enthusiasm, “you remember that Wolsey, in the time of Henry VIII, said:

And I can assure you that I believe when I serve this country for the principles of independence and equality of the people, I am serving my God. So I have heard Mr. Franklin say to father, and he must be right.”

Turning to his host and hostess at each end of the breakfast table, and to Miss Greydon, who sat opposite, Barclugh looked at each one earnestly, while he remarked:

“This young lady must be inspired.”

With the purpose of disclaiming any credit to herself, the young lady, with all the sincerity of a child, laughed with animation, as she tried to explain her wisdom:

“No, Mr. Barclugh, you must not think so. For the past five years we have heard nothing discussed at our tables, at our firesides, and on every occasion, nothing but the ‘Rights of Man,’ ‘Common Sense,’ ‘Age of Reason,’ ‘The Declaration of Independence,’ ‘The Tyranny of Kings,’ and ‘The Corruption of Aristocracy,’ until their doctrines have become household words. I have imbibed them, absorbed them, and discussed them, so I feel that every word I utter is the truth.”

Dr. and Mrs. Greydon let the younger people occupy each other’s attention and listened with smiles of satisfaction at the readiness with which their only daughter was able to expound the sentiments of the household.

However, Dr. Greydon turned to his guest, saying:

“Mr. Barclugh, I must let you know that Mollie is my boy.”“Well, Miss Greydon, there is no mistaking two things; that you are right and that you are sincere. After this, you may be sure that you have my respect and my esteem,” were the admissions of Roderick Barclugh, and a deep emotion came over his whole frame, as the crimson blush of blood rose out of his body, and enveloped his neck and ears and face.

Here was an unaffected and honest Colonial girl of nineteen, who had brought this diplomat to bay.

While thinking of his journey and mission the thought flashed through his mind:

“Magna est veritas et prevalibit.”

Nothing but monosyllables could Barclugh utter after this upheaval in his breast, produced by the wisdom and truth stated by the innocent young soul who sat opposite him at table. Small-talk about the farm and city relieved his predicament until breakfast was over.

Dr. Greydon and Barclugh enjoyed a social pipe in the library after breakfast, until the Doctor suggested:

“Since you have been awake all night the best thing for you to do is to take a rest.”

The suggestion was eagerly taken up by Barclugh, for he needed rest and seclusion. Therefore, he excused himself, and went to his chamber and sat down in a large chair with a resignation becoming a better cause than his.

He began to think of the excitement of ensnaring Arnold the night before, and then the voice of that beautiful girl:

rang in his ears.

He jumped up and placed his clenched fists in his hair, and exclaimed:

“My God, I am blushing again! What ails me? I tremble. Oh, that face! that voice! those words deep in wisdom! Great God! I am in love!”

He paced up and down his chamber. He took off his shoes and outer garments and lay down to sleep, but he could not. He tossed from side to side; he jumped up and sat on the chair, but no repose could he find.

“What can I do? Shall I throw everything overboard? Shall I renounce my mission, and ask Miss Greydon to be my wife? No, I can not do that, for the traitor, Arnold, has me in his power. If I proceed in this nefarious business, my life will not be right to meet this pure and innocent soul on an equality.”

Straightening himself up and gazing out of the window, Barclugh saw the birds carrying straws to build their nests, and the bees bringing honey to the hive in the garden, and he mused no longer but walked to and fro as he resolved:

“Come, Barclugh, brace thyself. Ah, I shall proceed. I shall attempt both ends. If one fail, perhaps the other will succeed. I know which one I most desire.

“But I must not linger here. To hear her voice again I shall be lost. I must go very soon; yes, at once.”

Barclugh had now calmed and he lay down again and slept soundly for two hours.

Awakening with a start, he dressed in haste, and found his host and informed him that the urgency of this business would not let him rest longer.

Leaving his compliments for his hostess and Miss Mollie with the Doctor, Barclugh mounted his horse and galloped down the avenue of hemlocks to the public road, and took the direction of Trenton on the Delaware.