Peggy leaned against the fence for support, trembling violently. General Arnold was evidently bound for the palace, and she must pass him if she continued on her way to the hospital. The thought of running back to the house, and waiting until he had passed came to her, but she found herself incapable of moving. Peggy was obliged to resign herself to the encounter.

The scarlet and gold of the British uniform well became him, Peggy could not but observe. His dark, handsome face looked impassively from under his laced, cocked hat, and with quickening heart-throbs she saw that he still limped. Wildly she hoped that he would pass by without noticing her, and she watched his approach with a sort of fascination.

The birds sang merrily above her head, flitting from tree to tree across the blue of the sky. From the topmost bough of a near-by mulberry tree an oriole poured forth a flood of melody. A fresh river breeze bearing on its wings the odors of the sea stirred the maiden’s hair and touched her flushed cheeks with refreshing coolness.

Alas! as he came directly in front of her he raised his eyes, and then stopped abruptly with an exclamation of surprise and wonder.

“Why! it is Miss Peggy Owen, is it not?” he asked with a genial smile.

“Yes,” answered she faintly. “It is, Fr——” then she stopped. The word friend stuck in her throat. She could not utter it. Friend? Nay, he was not that. He had forfeited the title forever. And so, after a brief hesitation, she continued: “It is I, in truth, General Arnold.”

A flush had come into his swarthy face as she substituted the title “general” for friend. He bent his dark compelling eye upon her with wistful eagerness.

“Miss Peggy,” he said, holding out his hand with a winning smile, “we are both a long way from home. I little thought to find my girl friend down here. I give you greeting.”

“And I give thee greeting also, sir,” she returned. But she did not put out her hand. She could not.

She had been taught all her life to return good for evil. To submit to baseness and ingratitude with meekness; but Peggy could not bring herself to clasp Benedict Arnold’s hand in greeting. Above the singing of the birds she heard John Drayton’s heart-broken cry, “My general! my general! my general!” She saw again the anguish of strong men at the defection of a brave soldier. How Drayton had loved him—this dashing, daring leader who had ruined his ideal of manhood. The blankness and awfulness of the pall that had settled upon the country after his desertion had not yet been dissipated. Men had not yet ceased to look suspiciously upon each other. Officers spoke with hushed voices even yet of how the great heart of General Washington had been all but crushed by this man’s falseness. And now he stood before her with outstretched hand in the April sunshine.

“I give thee greeting, sir,” she said with unsmiling lips. “Greeting and good-day.” And she made as if to pass him.

“Stay,” he said, his face crimsoned, and dark with anger. “Am I not fit to be spoken to? You regard me as a traitor, do you not? Yes; your eyes tell it though you say it not. My little maid, may not a man change his opinions? Have I not heard that your father was not always of the belief that bloodshed was lawful? Nay; even you yourself have changed since the beginning of the war. Once you and your family held that resistance to the powers that be was wrong. That submission to the king was not only proper but duty as well. Have I not the right to change my views and opinions also?”

“Yes,” she made answer. “Thee has the right. Any man may change.”

“Then why condemn me?” he cried with passion.

“I do not condemn thee, sir; I leave that to God and thy conscience,” she said. “But oh!” she cried unable to control herself longer, “why did thee not do it openly? No man would have held thee to blame had thee come out boldly, and acknowledged thy changed views. But to seek to give our strongest fortress into the hands of the enemy; to betray a brave man to death, to destroy the idol that thee had made for thyself in the hearts of thy soldiers, to bring sorrow to General Washington, who hath so much to bear; this was not well, sir. ’Twas not done in the honorable manner that men had a right to expect of Benedict Arnold. And now, to come with fire and sword against thine own people! How can thee do it? How can thee?”

“You do not understand. There have been men who have been willing to bear infamy that good might come of it. I sought to be one of them. When the colonies have been restored to their rightful allegiance the matter may appear in a different light. Miss Peggy, you do not understand.”

“No,” she answered reluctant to prolong the interview. “I do not, sir; nor do I wish to.”

“Child,” he said, regarding her with a winsome smile, “once you were beset with pride because you walked the length of a drawingroom by my side. Will you pleasure me with your company down this street?”

Peggy’s eyes were misty, and her voice full of infinite sadness as she replied:

“When I was proud to walk with thee, thou wert a brave soldier, wounded in the defense of thy country. Now thou hast betrayed that country, and thou hast come against thine own people, plundering and burning the property of thy brothers. I walk with no traitor, sir.”

Over his dark forehead, cheek, and neck the red blood rioted at her words, and his dark eyes flashed ominously.

“So be it,” he said at length. “Enemies we are, then. I could have served you greatly. Perhaps it would have been better for you to have been more politic; but no matter. Benedict Arnold forces his presence upon no one. This one thing, however, I ask of you: Tell me, I pray, where John Drayton is. But answer that and I will leave you in peace.”

“Thee means to tempt him,” breathed Peggy, looking at him with startled glance. “Thee has no right to know that. He was broken-hearted over thy defection from thy country. He shed tears of sorrow. He and Daniel Morgan also. He would not wish to hear from thee. Molest him not, I beg of thee.”

“Ah! that touched you,” he cried. “If you are so sure of his loyalty why ask me not to molest him? Are you afraid that he will come to me for the love he bears me?”

“No,” responded the girl indignantly, stung to the quick by his sneering manner. “John is fighting with the army, as he should be. Thee could not persuade him to leave his duty, sir. I trust him as I do myself.”

“How now!” he cried. “Wilt lay a wager with me that another two months will not find John Drayton fighting by my side? Wilt lay a wager on’t, my little maid?”

“No; I will not,” she said, her eyes dilated with scorn at the proposition. “Neither will I tell thee where he is so that thou canst vilely try to woo him from his allegiance. John is loyal to his country. He hath been severely tried, and not yet found wanting. I should be less than friend to consent that thou shouldst make an attempt upon his honor.”

“You have told me where he is, Mistress Peggy, without knowing it,” and he laughed maliciously. “Daniel Morgan hath been, until of late, with General Greene’s army in the Carolinas. If Drayton and Morgan were together it follows as a matter of course that Drayton is also with Greene.”

“Oh!” ejaculated Peggy in dismay. Then her native wit came to her aid. “But that was last fall,” she objected. “It doth not follow that even if he were there then, he is now. At that time thou wert with the enemy in New York; yet now thou art in Virginia. Why should he remain stationary any more than thou shouldst?”

“Well reasoned,” he approved, still laughing. “It doth not matter where he is, Mistress Peggy. I can find him if I wish. And I may wish. Do you live here?” indicating the cottage abruptly.

“For the time being, sir,” answered Peggy, longing to terminate the interview. “I am here to care for my cousin, who is of the British army.”

“Which accounts for the guard. Ah! Mistress Peggy, I see that despite your Whig proclivities you know the wisdom of having a friend among the enemy. Perhaps you would have met my friendly overtures in another spirit had it not been so. I give you good-day. Perchance we may meet again.”

Bowing low he left her, and feeling somehow very uncomfortable Peggy went on to her cousin.