“General Arnold, I can not and shall not be subjected to these miserable indignities any longer,” exclaimed Mrs. Arnold, as she hysterically left her husband at the breakfast table and went to her bed-chamber.

On the day after Barclugh had arrived in Philadelphia, the Commander of the town had been presented with the demands for the servants’ wages, bills for two gowns, and pay for the oysters and fish from Sven Svenson, by his wife at breakfast, and his reply was:

“My dear, I have no money to-day.”

Arnold was brave in the midst of battle, but in the presence of an imperious and unreasoning wife he was an abject coward. A look from his wife was a command to Arnold, and he allowed his domestic expenses to ruin him and drive him into desperation, because he did not dare to curb within his means an unreasonably extravagant woman.

After Mrs. Arnold, in a fit of temper, had left her husband, Arnold arose in dismay, then sat down dejectedly in his chair. His brow was wrinkled; his eyes wore an expression of the fox, driven to bay; his frame shook with anguish; his hands clenched his hair; and he sought relief mentally, by reasoning out his situation to himself:

“My love for my wife causeth me to do foolish things, but I can not deny her anything that pleases her. Her very look is a command to me. When we married I thought our position demanded a country-seat, and I bought it. When she asked for a carriage and postilion, I furnished them. When she wished to dine her friends of the Tory party, I consented.

“But where has it led me at length? I am a Major-General of the Continentals, and living like a prince. Been married two years and five thousand pounds in debt. Oh, that I could end these pangs of pride! Yes, I shall end them. I shall again see Roderick Barclugh. I shall write again to General Washington and demand my assignment to West Point,” concluded Arnold as he arose and went to his wife’s chamber. He tried to enter but the door was fastened.

An angry voice from within asked:

“Who’s that?”

“Margaret, my dear, may I speak to you?” meekly replied Arnold.

“I shall not have any explanation, General Arnold,” savagely replied his wife; but she opened the door and imperiously walked to the other side of the room, where she stood with her back to him.

“My dear,” began Arnold, “I find that,——”

“Yes, you’ll find that I and my child will leave this house and you will find——” interjected Mrs. Arnold.

“If you will let me explain?” continued Arnold.

“I sha’n’t allow you to explain to me any more. You have done nothing but explain ever since you met me.

“What shall become of me and my child, if things do not improve?” continued Mrs. Arnold as she began sobbing.

“I know that you will be ordered off to active service and then you will be killed and what shall become of me? There will be nothing left for me to survive upon under this government.”

“Never mind, my dear, I shall try and get West Point. Then our fortunes will soon change. We will not have all of the expenses of living in the city; we can then pay off our debts. Besides I have some commercial ventures that I expect to bring in some returns very soon. I know how you must feel when you see how much money the FitzMaurices and the Millings and the Redmans have and we do not have anything but my meagre pay to live upon.

“But remember, my dearest, I shall do all in my power to make you happy,—even to giving up my life. Oh! Margaret, bear up a little longer and I shall be able to gratify every desire that you may have. You know how much I love you, and how happy we have been with our boy!”

Quickly turning toward her husband, the beautiful and young Mrs. Arnold put her face poutingly up to his to be kissed, as she said:

“Benedict, I know that you love me, and I am afraid that you love me more than I deserve.”

The Arnold household had to contend with two conditions that are sure to disrupt the tranquility of a home. One was the imperious, unreasoning ambition of the wife to shine socially, and the other was the recognition, by the husband, that his own social position was not equal to the position that his wife was entitled to hold by reason of education, family and environment.

Arnold had won fame in a few years on account of his brilliant and daring military exploits, but his reckless and obstinate nature had brought him into disrepute. He lacked finesse and diplomacy. His home and social surroundings demanded wisdom that he did not possess.

He had been an apothecary, a horse trader, and a sea captain. His enterprise in business had been of the adventurous order. He had rubbed against the hoi polloi of Colonial times. He was at home in a country dance among French Canadians on his journeys to trade Yankee notions for ponies, but when he entered the ultra-aristocratic circles of Philadelphia as the military commandant, he soon succumbed to the wiles of the beautiful women and the luxury of gay living; his head soon swam with the fantastic notions of a new and gilded life.

He was an unsophisticated Adam, partaking of the sweets of life with no preparation of the appetite. His ardent nature was not tempered with the prudence of experience. He glutted himself like the gamin who enters a pie contest. The wine was red and he desired to indulge himself in its flavor. No consequences appealed to him in his mad intoxication; he had no wisdom; his gentility was crude. Although he was bold, he was reduced by circumstances to a parasite; he even surrendered his political principles to those of his wife and her friends.

When these two social forces had met and were joined in matrimony, an abject imitation was made of the husband, and a tyrannical boaster of the wife.