us to reach Arnold's
quarters before breakfast time, and they had eighteen miles to ride.
Men were sent ahead with the baggage and a notice of Washington's
intention of breakfasting there; but when the general and his party
came opposite West Point, he turned his horse down a lane toward the
river.

"Lafayette said, 'General, you are going in a wrong direction; you
know Mrs. Arnold is waiting breakfast for us; and that road will take
us out of the way.'

"Washington answered good-naturedly: 'Ah, I know you young men are all
in love with Mrs. Arnold, and wish to get where she is as soon as
possible. You may go and take your breakfast with her, and tell her
not to wait for me; for I must ride down and examine the redoubts on
this side of the river, and will be there in a short time.'

"But the officers did not leave him, except two aides-de-camp who rode
on ahead to explain the cause of the delay. Breakfast was waiting when
they arrived, and they all sat down to their meal.

"Arnold seemed moody. Washington had come back too soon to suit his
plans, and the British had not come up the river at the appointed
time. He did not understand it, for he had not yet heard that Andre
was a prisoner. But before the meal was over Lieutenant Allen came
with a letter for him. Arnold broke the seal hastily, for he
recognized Colonel Jameson's handwriting in the address. Doubtless
Arnold expected it would inform him that the enemy was moving up the
river; but instead it told that Major Andre of the British Army was a
prisoner in his custody. It must have been like a thunderbolt to
Arnold, but his self-control was such that he showed but slight
disturbance; he told the aides-de-camp that he found he must go
immediately to West Point, and asked them to say to General
Washington, when he came, that he had been unexpectedly called over
the river and would soon return.

"He ordered a horse to be made ready, then left the table and went
upstairs to his wife. He told her that he must flee for his life, and
might never see her again. She fainted, but not venturing to call for
assistance, or to delay his flight, he gave a farewell kiss to their
sleeping baby, ran from the room, mounted a horse belonging to one of
Washington's aides, and hastened toward the river--not by the winding
road that led to the Beverly Dock, but along a by-way that led down a
steep hill which is yet called Arnold's Path. He got into his barge,
and told the six oarsm