rs the commission of any of those wrongs
which it had staked its life and consecrated its purpose as a nation to
destroy. General Arnold was a big man, generous in service to his
country, honored as one of its foremost sons, but he was no bigger than
the institution he was helping to rear. The chastisement inflicted upon
him was a reflection upon the state; but it also was a medication for
its own internal disorders.

The fact that the ruling powers of the city were bitterly opposed to the
Military Governor was not wholly indicative of the pulse of the people.
General Arnold was ever regarded with the highest esteem by the members
of the army. A successful leader, a brave soldier, a genial comrade, he
was easily the most beloved general after General Washington. With the
citizen body of Philadelphia he was on fairly good terms,--popular
during the early days of his administration, although somewhat offensive
of late because of his indiscretion and impetuosity. Still he was not
without his following, and whereas he had made himself odious to a great
number of people by his manner of life and of command, there were a
greater number of people who were ready to condone his faults out of
regard for his brilliant services in the past.

His enemies gloated over his misfortune. Everybody believed that, and it
was commonly understood that General Arnold believed it, too. But would
he overcome his enemies by retrieving the past and put to shame their
vulgar enthusiasm by rising to heights of newer and greater glory? Or
would he yield to the more natural propensities of retaliation or
despair? A man is no greater than the least of his virtues; but he who
has acquired self-control has founded a virtuous inheritance.

With thoughts of this nature were the trio occupied. For several minutes
no one spoke. Mr. Allison leaned against the table, his right arm
extended along its side, playing with a bodkin that lay within reach;
the sergeant sat in silence, watching the face of his entertainer; while
Marjorie lolled in her great chair, her eyes downcast, heavy, like two
great weights. At length Sergeant Griffin made as if to go. Marjorie
arose at once to bid him adieu.

"You said you came direct?" she reminded him.

"Yes, Miss Allison."

"You saw----" she hesitated, but quickly added, "Captain Meagher?"

She would have said "Stephen" but bethought herself.

"No, Miss. Not since the trial."

"He was not present?"

"No. He is wi