n anger.

"And leave my country in its hour of need," he finished the sentence for
her.

"Your country!" she taunted. "What has your country done for you? The
empty honors you have gained were wrung from her. The battle scars you
bear with you were treated with ingratitude. You were deprived of your
due honors of command. Even now you are attacked and hounded from every
angle. Your country! Pooh! A scornful mistress!"

She sat down and folded her arms, looking fiercely into the dark.

It is strange how human nature could be touched by so small affairs.
The war of continents meant very little to her imagination. Certainly
the parallel was not perfect; but it seemed to her to fit.

He looked around slowly.

"You took me for what I am," he said to her. "I gave you prestige,
wealth, happiness. But I have promised my life to my country if she
requires it and I shall never withdraw that promise while I live. Better
the grave of the meanest citizen than the mausoleum of a traitor."

"But think of your country!" insisted Anderson.

"Anderson," was the reply, "I know the needs of the country and I know
deeply my own grievances. Suppose I yield to your suggestions and
Britain fails,"--he paused as if to measure the consequences. "I shall
be doomed. I shall be called a bigot. My children will hate me."

He seemed to waver. His earlier enthusiasm apparently diminished before
their attack.

"But," continued Anderson, "with your aid Britain cannot fail. And
remember how England rewards those who render her great and signal
services. Look at the majestic column at Blenheim Palace reared to the
memory of John Churchill, Duke of Marlborough. Contrast with it what
Peggy has just said, the ingratitude, the injustice, the meanness, with
which Congress has treated you."

"Must the end justify the means?" he mused. "Can you continue to urge me
to duplicate the treachery of Churchill, who can never be forgiven for
his treason? Whatever else he may have achieved, you must remember he
was first and last a traitor."

"He was doubly a traitor, if you are pleased to so stigmatize him. He
first betrayed his benefactor, James, to ally himself with the Prince
of Orange; and then, on the pretext of remorse, broke faith with
William; acted the part of a spy in his court and camp; offered to
corrupt his troops and lead them over to James; and still all was
forgotten in the real service which he rendered to his country, and his
name has go