When Roderick Barclugh left the office of General Arnold, he mounted
his horse and took the Germantown road. The hour was just before dawn,
and much fatigue after the exciting negotiations with the traitor
caused Barclugh to ride briskly, while serious meditations flitted
through his brain:
“What will Washington think of Arnold’s request for assignment to West
Point? I must pave the way for Arnold’s success. If I could only meet
General Washington, being armed with the letter of Robert FitzMaurice,
I would encourage the General to favor Arnold and explain away his
unrest at Philadelphia. I could praise his deeds at Saratoga; how he
longed for active service; his marriage and its financial obligations.
The desire to please his wife entangled Arnold in unwarranted
expenditures. To assign such a valuable leader to a post away from all
allurements of society would preserve a valuable leader for active
service after his wound had healed.”
Thus he mused, while his horse alternately galloped and walked, until
he realized that the sun had risen, and he found that he had reached
the seat of his friend, Dr. William Greydon, who had urged him to stop
at Dorminghurst, whenever he should have business that way.
Knowing that he might have greater need of his horse later on in the
course of his perilous journey, he considered it wisdom to stop and
spend the day for rest and gather his thoughts and energy for a long
ride the next day. He also wished to travel incognito and the less he
stopped at public houses, the better his purpose was helped along.
To stop at Dorminghurst did not require any length of argument, as
Barclugh was young and still susceptible. Neither had he forgotten Miss
Mollie Greydon who was at the dinner party of the Financier General;
Barclugh recalled her beauty and intellectual qualities.
Riding between the hemlocks to the mansion, Roderick Barclugh was
struck with the taste of this American home. As he dismounted he was
greeted by the master of the house on the portico, while his horse was
attended by a watchful black servant. The welcome he received was in
true Colonial fashion:
“At last, Mr. Barclugh, you have made good your promise to break bread
with me. I know that you must have risen early, so we can breakfast at
once,” was the greeting of Dr. William Greydon.
Turning to the servant, Dr. Greydon continued:
“Care for Mr. Barclugh’s horse and bring his saddle-bags into the
house.”
“Really,” replied Barclugh, “starting on this journey last night, I was
detained with a friend arranging my business until early morning. I am
on a long journey to the Commander-in-Chief at Fishkill, and I thought
best to make my journey in short stages at first.”
“You are wise, Mr. Barclugh,” replied his host, “and I am sure
Dorminghurst is honored with your presence.” Bowing courteously as Mr.
Barclugh entered the great hallway, Dr. Greydon ushered his guest to
the staircase, and left him in the hands of a trusted man-servant who
led the way to the guest-chamber.
After the customary formalities of presenting himself to his host and
family in the library, breakfast was served in the rear hall.
The easy manners of gentlemen’s families during the Revolution were a
blessing to travelers. Open houses, hearty welcome to soldiers, was
the rule among patriots, and hospitality was as free and unpolluted as
sparkling spring water.
What impressed Roderick Barclugh as remarkable, was the frank and
unaffected manner in which he was greeted by the daughter and
brilliant wife of Dr. Greydon. Their “thee’s” and “thou’s” were not
assumed in addressing a guest who happened in; for the Greydons had
traveled in Europe, and Dr. Greydon was a graduate in Medicine of
Cambridge University.
There is risk to young women in early morning calls. If ever a young
woman is seen in her true self, that time is at her own breakfast
table. No one appreciated such a fact more keenly than Roderick
Barclugh. Therefore, when he presented himself for this early breakfast
he greeted Mrs. Greydon and Miss Mollie with these words:
“Miss Mollie, I am surprised to find you astir so early.”
“Why!” exclaimed the young Quakeress, “Mr. Barclugh, I have already
translated forty lines of Horace for father, as well as directed the
churning for mother.”
“Wonderful! Bravo!! Miss Greydon, I have much respect for the young
woman who can combine the graces of odes of the greatest Latin poet
along with the duties of domestic economy, and all before breakfast,”
exclaimed Barclugh. “I believe, however, that Horace sings of the vine,
the bees, the grain, the cattle, and the thrifty housewife. I am really
delighted to find some one so practically refined,” continued the
guest.
Mollie Greydon was a perfectly happy and healthy girl, who enjoyed
being busy and useful. She was dressed this morning in a neat and
becoming homespun of her father’s loom. Her form was well rounded and
her face was animated and possessed of one of those kindly benevolent
expressions that are heaven-born. Her eyes were hazel-brown, large and
deep-set, which indicated stable character and mental penetration. Her
hair was brown, and worn combed back, high and plain.
There was nothing of the ascetic or complaining nature about her.
She was a wholesomely good and reasonable girl, ready and willing to
accept any station in life in which she happened to be cast,--always
ready to perform her full duty, no matter in what sphere. If she were
linked to the fortunes of an honorable pioneer or to the luxury of
a Colonial gentleman, she would have no grievances. Mollie Greydon
was conscious of her ability to render her full duty in life and
therefore the equipoise of her countenance and the grace of her mind
and body were discernible in whatever she did. She had much energy,
but still had discretion to keep much in reserve. She had lively
passions and a temper which any worthy person must respect, but the
judgment in its use was the work of a master mind. She quarreled
with no one but the open enemies of her country, and the advocates
of aristocracy. Her young days had been intermingled with all the
contemporary men of ideas, since she was her father’s companion, and
always at his side. The social and domestic life of Dorminghurst, the
intellectual atmosphere of her home, and the advantages of meeting all
the distinguished men of the times around her father’s fireside, had
rounded out the qualities of a gifted young woman, which she was.
The breakfast was plain and substantial, composed of hominy and
milk, and sugar-cured ham, with a corn cake and a cup of coffee;
also potatoes that were boiled. Roderick Barclugh had an unerring
opportunity to study the bearing of Miss Mollie in all its details. He
asked her several pointed questions for the only purpose of sounding
her philosophy on current affairs, and on her views of life in the
colonies.
Among other questions one was addressed to her with an earnest gaze
from Barclugh’s penetrating eyes:
“Miss Mollie, have you no young lady companions near at hand to help
you pass the time?”
“No, Mr. Barclugh,” came the prompt and decided answer of the young
Quakeress. “I have very few. My father and my mother are my most
constant companions. One tutors me in the classics, almost daily,
and the other instructs me in all the duties of our household. I am,
therefore, very busy at my books, the spinning, the weaving, the
oversight of the dairy and the poultry-yards. I have my circle of
friends in Philadelphia and I attend some of the entertainments given
there; but in these stirring times, when our countrymen need clothes
and food, I owe all of my energy to them.”
“Well, well, Miss Greydon, you are truly in earnest about this war. Let
me see,” laughingly remarked Barclugh, “do you really believe that the
Colonists can possibly succeed in their efforts to win independence?
Will not your zeal have been spent in vain?”
“Why, Mr. Barclugh,” came her reply in girlish enthusiasm, “you
remember that Wolsey, in the time of Henry VIII, said:
‘Had I but serv’d my God with half the zeal
‘I serv’d my king, he would not in mine age
‘Have left me naked to mine enemies.’
And I can assure you that I believe when I serve this country for the
principles of independence and equality of the people, I am serving my
God. So I have heard Mr. Franklin say to father, and he must be right.”
Turning to his host and hostess at each end of the breakfast table,
and to Miss Greydon, who sat opposite, Barclugh looked at each one
earnestly, while he remarked:
“This young lady must be inspired.”
With the purpose of disclaiming any credit to herself, the young lady,
with all the sincerity of a child, laughed with animation, as she tried
to explain her wisdom:
“No, Mr. Barclugh, you must not think so. For the past five years we
have heard nothing discussed at our tables, at our firesides, and on
every occasion, nothing but the ‘Rights of Man,’ ‘Common Sense,’ ‘Age
of Reason,’ ‘The Declaration of Independence,’ ‘The Tyranny of Kings,’
and ‘The Corruption of Aristocracy,’ until their doctrines have become
household words. I have imbibed them, absorbed them, and discussed
them, so I feel that every word I utter is the truth.”
Dr. and Mrs. Greydon let the younger people occupy each other’s
attention and listened with smiles of satisfaction at the readiness
with which their only daughter was able to expound the sentiments of
the household.
However, Dr. Greydon turned to his guest, saying:
“Mr. Barclugh, I must let you know that Mollie is my boy.”
“Well, Miss Greydon, there is no mistaking two things; that you are
right and that you are sincere. After this, you may be sure that
you have my respect and my esteem,” were the admissions of Roderick
Barclugh, and a deep emotion came over his whole frame, as the crimson
blush of blood rose out of his body, and enveloped his neck and ears
and face.
Here was an unaffected and honest Colonial girl of nineteen, who had
brought this diplomat to bay.
While thinking of his journey and mission the thought flashed through
his mind:
“Magna est veritas et prevalibit.”
Nothing but monosyllables could Barclugh utter after this upheaval in
his breast, produced by the wisdom and truth stated by the innocent
young soul who sat opposite him at table. Small-talk about the farm and
city relieved his predicament until breakfast was over.
Dr. Greydon and Barclugh enjoyed a social pipe in the library after
breakfast, until the Doctor suggested:
“Since you have been awake all night the best thing for you to do is to
take a rest.”
The suggestion was eagerly taken up by Barclugh, for he needed rest and
seclusion. Therefore, he excused himself, and went to his chamber and
sat down in a large chair with a resignation becoming a better cause
than his.
He began to think of the excitement of ensnaring Arnold the night
before, and then the voice of that beautiful girl:
“Had I but serv’d my God with half the zeal
“I serv’d my king....”
rang in his ears.
He jumped up and placed his clenched fists in his hair, and exclaimed:
“My God, I am blushing again! What ails me? I tremble. Oh, that face!
that voice! those words deep in wisdom! Great God! I am in love!”
* * * * *
He paced up and down his chamber. He took off his shoes and outer
garments and lay down to sleep, but he could not. He tossed from side
to side; he jumped up and sat on the chair, but no repose could he find.
“What can I do? Shall I throw everything overboard? Shall I renounce
my mission, and ask Miss Greydon to be my wife? No, I can not do that,
for the traitor, Arnold, has me in his power. If I proceed in this
nefarious business, my life will not be right to meet this pure and
innocent soul on an equality.”
Straightening himself up and gazing out of the window, Barclugh saw
the birds carrying straws to build their nests, and the bees bringing
honey to the hive in the garden, and he mused no longer but walked to
and fro as he resolved:
“Come, Barclugh, brace thyself. Ah, I shall proceed. I shall attempt
both ends. If one fail, perhaps the other will succeed. I know which
one I most desire.
“But I must not linger here. To hear her voice again I shall be lost. I
must go very soon; yes, at once.”
Barclugh had now calmed and he lay down again and slept soundly for two
hours.
Awakening with a start, he dressed in haste, and found his host and
informed him that the urgency of this business would not let him rest
longer.
Leaving his compliments for his hostess and Miss Mollie with the
Doctor, Barclugh mounted his horse and galloped down the avenue of
hemlocks to the public road, and took the direction of Trenton on the
Delaware.