Leaving his wife’s chamber, Arnold went to the office of Roderick Barclugh.

He was smarting under the findings of the court-martial at Morristown, and under the monetary demands of a gay and ambitious wife. He had proposed to resign his commission in the army and settle upon an estate in the wilds of Western New York, and let history right the wrongs that had been heaped upon him, but the ambition of his wife intervened again. Her love of social distinction would not allow her to consent to a home in the wilderness. What a glorious record of heroism was thus turned into the wormwood of infamy!

Desperation was written on his face when Arnold reached the office of Roderick Barclugh, who shook the General’s hand, saying:

“I hope, General Arnold, that you do not think seriously of my heated discourse toward you yesterday, for I was weary and suffering from my wound. I was then ill-humored and out of patience. Anything that I can do to relieve your financial difficulties, you may command of me.”This unexpected liberality on the part of Barclugh now won the heart of Arnold. The ointment for a wounded spirit was in these words.

Arnold sat down and smiled as he rubbed his hands and began to relate confidingly to Barclugh:

“Mr. Barclugh, my life, thus far, has been full of hardship and bitterness. My honors have been won with a heart true to my country; no stigma yet rests upon my name; but my motives have been misjudged and maligned; the designs and calumny of wicked rivals have filled my life with despair.

“Then, my enemies have attacked the idol of my soul,—my wife and the mother of my child. Enough to arouse the bitterness of my being were the attacks upon my own actions, but when the opinions of my wife and her friends have to be scored and laid up against me I am driven to seek satisfaction.

“The one burden of my soul that bears me down to the depths of desperation, however, is that of my debts. I have always been used to having plenty for my simple needs, but the war has impoverished me, and I can not get my just dues from Congress. I owe the butcher, the baker and the footman. My wife’s social ambition I am not able to curtail. I am in the depths of embarrassment over my debts.“If it were not for what I owe I could not consent to treason to extricate myself; but I am too deeply involved. Indeed, too deeply!” concluded Arnold as his voice choked, and huge tears trickled down his cheeks.

Not a word passed the lips of these men of iron for a period that seemed oppressively long.

At length Barclugh broke the silence, remarking compassionately:

“My dear General Arnold, your life has been worried to distraction by men of small and ungenerous natures. They have sought to elevate themselves by your undoing; but what must you expect from a government such as you have in these Colonies? There is no authority, no responsible head. You, in your case, have no appeal from a backbiting set of adventurers.

“But in government at home such services as you have rendered have the reward of a peerage and a grant from Parliament for the benefit of your family.

“There is no use talking further, you can serve your countrymen far more, by trying to put an end to these injustices, perpetrated by an irresponsible rabble upon personages of substance, than by trying to win independence,—for what?—A worse government, perhaps, than the one you have had as Colonists.”“In any event, the Commissioners of His Majesty are willing to grant all the demands that the Colonists have asked for.

“Now, General Arnold, you will pardon me, but if I were to put two thousand pounds sterling to your credit, as a loan, and leave it here for your convenience, would that be of any service to you?”

“My dear Mr. Barclugh,” replied Arnold most graciously, “you have befriended me generously—I am in need of friends.

“I shall not forget your kindness, but may I ask you to let me have five hundred pounds to-day?”

“Certainly, certainly,” returned Barclugh, and he counted him out the amount in Bank of England notes.

“But there is only one matter I wish to impress upon you, General Arnold, before you go,” continued Barclugh, as he arose and took Arnold by the hand. “I hope that you will press the matter about West Point with General Washington, and let me know at the very first moment what news you get. I know that General Washington desires to befriend you.”

“Of course, Mr. Barclugh, I will keep you posted. I expect news any day; still there is a feeling within me that Washington is under the influence of my enemies. He does not show the cordiality to me now, that he used to.

“But never mind, I shall be able to give them all a lesson in the manner of treating a gentleman, when the war is over.”

“Good day, Mr. Barclugh, I am more than grateful.”

“Come down at any time, General. We shall arrange all details when you hear from headquarters.

“Good day,” concluded Roderick Barclugh.

“Segwuna, where have you been, my dear? I have missed you so much,” were the words of Mollie Greydon, when she saw Segwuna for the first time in two weeks. Segwuna was in the winding path leading to the old mill on the Wingohocking at Dorminghurst.

Segwuna turned around at the sound of Mollie’s voice, and walking toward her, put an arm around the waist of her friend and replied:

“I have been to New York selling some moccasins and leggings,” for she did not desire to let Mollie know the whole of her reasons for going to New York.

Segwuna continued spiritedly:

“While there I saw General Clinton and Major Andre. They live in such grand style,—a coach and postilion, just like General Arnold.“Those grand people have no love for an Indian girl like me.”

“Oh, never mind, my sweetheart! I love you,” retorted Mollie sweetly, as she embraced her friend and kissed her on the cheek.

“Oh, let’s go down to the mill, Segwuna,” continued Mollie. “We can sit down and relieve our hearts to each other.”

Mollie had been much agitated ever since Mr. Barclugh’s visit to Dorminghurst. She had been affected by the very peculiar and earnest look in his eyes at the breakfast table. She had seen neither Barclugh nor Segwuna since then, and her delicate nature had dwelt upon the tender gaze in Barclugh’s eyes and thoughts of what it might mean had haunted her by day and by night. If she could have told Segwuna, she would have found relief, but Segwuna had left the same day that Mr. Barclugh had gone to New York.

The two life-long friends, with arms around each other’s waists, now sauntered down to a lonely spot around the old mill to tell of their fears and their hearts’ desires. Mollie believed that Segwuna had wisdom, so that the Indian maiden was the oracle that Mollie consulted when she had burdens on her mind.

These two childlike natures had that implicit confidence in each other that is born of God. They sat on the mill-race, under the shade of a huge elm. As Mollie buried her head in Segwuna’s bosom, the fountains of pent-up grief broke out and Mollie wept and wept until Segwuna pacified her by stroking her brow and sweetly asking:

“What is the matter, my loved one? Has Segwuna offended you, sweetheart? What makes my love so unhappy?”

“Oh, Segwuna, I thought that you had been lost or killed or that something terrible had happened to you. You never stayed away so long before. I have been looking for you every day, and you did not return.

“Now that you have returned and you have not changed,—you still love me?—I cry for joy. But then, Segwuna, I have a secret to tell you, and you must not laugh at me, for then I shall think that you do not love me.

“Do you know,” continued Mollie, “that the day that Mr. Barclugh was here, and we were talking at breakfast about the King’s courtiers, I happened to repeat those lines of Shakespeare:

‘Had I but served my God with half the zeal
‘I serv’d my king, he would not in mine age
‘Have left me naked to mine enemies.’

“When I had finished these lines, the eyes of Mr. Barclugh gazed at me, and such a light shone out of them, I have not been able to rid myself of the look that he gave me.

“Segwuna, what does it mean? I am troubled by day in my thought and by night in my dreams.

“I could not find you, my darling, to let you know what troubled me. I have been unhappy every minute since then.”

“Well, my sweetheart,” replied Segwuna, “I shall pray to the Great Spirit to protect you from harm; but there can be only one interpretation of what you have told me,—it means that Mr. Barclugh is in love with you.”

A thunderstorm had arisen from the southwest, while the two girls were occupied in their heart to heart communion, and the two ran into the old mill for protection. The terrific wind and downpour of rain shook the old mill. When the sharp bolts of lightning and the heavy crash of thunder seemed very near, Mollie clutched Segwuna by the arm, and hung to her spasmodically, as fear seemed to multiply in her already much agitated breast.

When Segwuna turned at last to leave for her mother’s lodge, she kissed Mollie on the cheek, and whispered gently:

“Segwuna will pray to her Great Spirit to protect her sweetheart from all harm. Good night, darling.”