th His Excellency. Several days ago I saw him and he bade
me come here with the report of the finding."

"That was all?"

"Yes, Miss."

"Thank you. We can never repay your kindness."

"Its performance was my greatest delight."

"Thank you. Good night!"

She withdrew into the hall.

CHAPTER XI

I

More sin is attributed to the ruling passion of a man than to the
forbidden pleasures of the world, or the violent assaults of the Evil
One. Under its domination and tyranny the soul suffers shipwreck and
destruction on the rocks of despair and final impenitence. It frequently
lies buried beneath the most imperturbable countenance, manifesting
itself only at times, often on the occasion of some unusual joy or
sadness. It responds to one antidote; but the antidote requires a man of
coarse fiber for its self-administration.

In this respect General Arnold was not a strong man. If he had acted
upon himself wholly from without, as if he were not himself, and had
cultivated a spirit of humility and abnegation of self, together with a
considerateness and softness of manner towards those at whose hands he
had suffered, he would have stifled his pangs of wounded pride and
self-love, and emerged a victor over himself in the contest. He might
have recognized his own imperfections to a tolerable degree which would
have disinclined him to censoriousness, not to say rashness. By
maintaining an evenness of temper and equality of spirits during the
days of his sore affliction, he might have reconsidered his decisions of
haste and ultimate disaster, and be led to the achievement of newer and
nobler triumphs.

But he did not. Instead he gave way at once to a violence of anger which
was insurmountable. There was engendered within him feelings of revenge
of the most acrid nature. His self-love had been humiliated and crushed
before the eyes of a garrulous world. His vanity and his prestige had
been ground in the dust. There was no consideration save the
determination for an immediate and effectual revenge.

"Don't worry, my dear," Peggy had whispered to him on the way home. "Try
not to think of it."

"Think of it?... God! I'll show them. They'll pay for this."

Apart from that he had not spoken to her during the entire journey.
Morose, sullen, brutal, he had nursed his anger until his countenance
fairly burned from the tension within. He slammed the door with
violence; he tore the epaulets from his shoulders and threw t