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THE RUBY CROSS :
Benedict Arnold's Amulet.
RT MARY. W. JANVIN
CIIAT"IER I
Wrrit eager, impetuous footsteps, Benedict
Arnold paced the white sea strand of a quaint,
strange old West Indian town. whose antique
Moorish houses, with their pillared balconies.
their arabesque work, their open courts and
sparkling fountains, give to it such a foreign
look, and that air of romance so
.peculiar ; to
old Spanish cities—while his vessel lay an
chored in the blue waters of the harbor of
Havana.
For Benedict Arnold, in his youth, was a
merchant, trading to the West hulks, and com
manded his own vessel—the little sloop which
then, with snowy mast and tapering spars,
clearly defined against the blue sky, lay like a
thing of beauty, idle and motionless, on the
waves.
This. was not his first trip to the tropics ;
many a time ere this his vessel had plowed the
waters of the Atlantic to those islands which lie
like gems of beauty upon the ocean's breast. shot
past the frowning bdttliments of Moro Castle,
and rode gallantly into the hallow of Havana.
but it was to be his last one ; for already had
the difficulties arisen between his native land
and the mother country ; there was a call for
America's brave sons, and every drop of the
untamed blood of youth in Arnold's veins was
roused at the trumpet tone of war.
Nor was it the love of country alone which
impelled him to return and enlist under Free
dom's banners, but that fierce, unquenchable
passion for excitement which characterized his
life from childhood, which had made him, in
boyhood, a rover to the Po itish camp, then as
hastily brought hint home again, sent him to
the tropics as a merchant, where he won hiin
great wealth, and in after life gave him that
impart Hewn nravery wuicu aistinginshed tine
on the battle-fields of his country. .
But. why, as the first 'faint notes of war,
borne over the waters, fdl upon Benedict Ar
nold's car, amid ti luxuriance of those West
India Isles, dig he linger there ? Why did his
good ship lie idle, with furled sail and drooping
pennon, in the harbor of Havana ?
Alt, there was a struggle going on in his
lidart between this newly aroused feeling of
patriotism and excitement, and another and
tenderer sentiment: For Benedict Arnohi
was reveling in the first love dream of his
youth.
And this was why his sloop lay motionless
upon the waters of the harbor : why, (lay after
day, his brow was still fanned by tropic airs
why, then , at nightfall, impatiently watching
the sou dipping his Weary . lived into the pur
ple western waves, he hastily strode to and fro
on the wite sea strand.
.And when the evening gun boomed from
Moro Castle, he drew his little skiff from the
deep•covo where it lay sheltered, and with a
few bold, vigorous dashes of the oar, pushed
out of the harbor.
That was the hour when he kept 'trust -with
the beloved one : with her whose dark Spanish
eyes had burned their way into his heart :
whose tender love words and carcases woke in
all its glow his own peculiarly ardent southern
temperament.
But even this bold, determined man, loving,
as he did, impetuously and strongly, could no
longer linger there ; even his first love Ilreant
had no power to bind him always ; he was no,
man to loiter In hi.: lady's bower, while that
brave heart, panting for the vosh of war and
the glory of conquest beat within his breast.
And that day he had said :
" One more meeting in the shades of the old
Moorish garden ; one last kiss upon Inez Vel
asquez's sweet lips, and then I must away."
What Benedict Arnold's purposes for life
were, he scarce knew then ; but with the one
idea of change of excitement, he had ex-
claimed :
" I will no longer tarry here. The dream. is
sweet, passing sweet, but it must be broken."
And so on, on, out of the harbor he pushed
with hasty oar dashes—the vigorous beat of the
oars, the hasty strokes of his athletic arm,
types of his whole life, impetuous, daring, free
and spurning control.
Odce out on the bay, his skiff sailed rapidly
on to the shore, where trailing vines, from the
luxuriant gardens lining the watees edge, dip
ped down into the tide.
From the very margin of the bay rose a
dense, tangled mass of rich vegetable life, vary
ing in every shade of gold and green and crim
son, the rank growth of the luxuriant soil.
Forth front the mated VIIICE gleamed magnifi
cent blossoms, swaying up and • down on their
long, pensilo stems, like gorgeous, flame wing
ed birds flitting to and fro ; bright crimson pot=
als; loosened from ripened calixes, fell hero and
there about his boat upon the sea ; long feath
ery sprays plumed and nodded in the balmy
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VOLUME IX
air : indeed, it was a perfect wilderness of
green and bloom, an intoxicating atmosphere of
odors
0, these warm West Indian Isles, the Eden
of the world, lying in dark purple depths of
sea !" •
How Benedict Arnold's tropic heart reveled
in the intoxicating richness everywhere about
MEE
And could he leave this; magic clime, the
sparkling, waters, and the gleaming constella
tions which walked forth into the deep night
skies with 'a glory unknown to his native north
ern. land ? and above all, could he gaze no
more upon those eyes which beamed far bright
er than the starlight for hi in ?
Yes, yes : his resolve was unchangeable ;
he must go hence. What will not a proud. am
bitions man do, and dare, and sulfcr, fur his
own aggrandizement !
And still on he towed, over waters darken
ing, into a deeper purple in the shades of gath
ering night under the magnifloyn I blaze of that
southern starlight, a starlight so like day.
And still the long vines and green mosses
trailed down into the water: and floating oat
seaward. came winds replete Wilh odors almost
sickening in their sweetness : still on his head
rained showers of crimson and snowy petals :
and on. on, he went past vi,ions of beauty.
which seemed more like glimpses of fairyland
than any reality on earth.
An hour hod ulap , ed in the rover 1( ft tilt
harbor, and the ftdl blaze of a tropic
over land and sra.
" A glorious land—a tungie ! But this
lint blood in my veins must be cooled in non II •
ern airs, ere long," murmured Arnold. as he
drew his shill' ashore at an opening•, beyond
whose vista of arelling vines 'sight
glimpses of the white walls or a villa. and stied
for a moment with bared heal beneath the star
light. '
A glorious land' to ijee. and dream, nod
love in such a life would hill me. .1 must
La. e notion. the sterner stiif•. Hitt enmb•rt,"
exclaimed, as he parted the vines. strode up a
flight of marble steps, and entered the flowery
wilderness hnyond or ✓
There, 'neat!' the bri..;lit starli2lli , gleamed
the white walls of an old
built around an open. paved court, Wliere
fountain played, and shimmered like •silver in
the starlight.
There, in a quaint-lnohing al garden, with
green terraees and ln•oad flights of lot rhle
steps, where the stater• palm reared its turfled
eornnial high above all other trees, where the
scarlet pomegranate tossed its seented blossoms
on the hir, had the first love dream of 'Benedict
Arnold's life begun : and there. too, were his
own lips, that night, to speak the wordS: Nvhi..ll
ended it.
'There, ton. it died : but in after years, n• h cn
the flush of .glory was won--beside the watch
fires of Quebeo, in the rusk of the battle. and
the stillness of the calm night-side. did no mein ,
cry of that trusting. Spanish girl; who had lav
ished her love on tin: gay, gallant, and chival
ric young Ameriomo come to his heart ?—of the
girl who eaine there to meet him under the
starlight, who cried, "(1 • do not go'?" as
standing there. beside her, amid her carresses
and her tears. he said " Toe'..• 1 must depart."
"Nay, Inez. beloved," he whispered ten.
derly. " nay. it must he so. My country has
need of all her sons to aid in her struggles, but
when the victory is won, then will I come hack
to love and thee."
And there, in that hour 'Benedict .Arnold..
mrant what lie uttered. Tn his first youthful
love dream, that bold man was nearer the king
dom of heaven than he ever was again. 11.•al
he kept the faith he pledged had he gone back
to that Spanish Imaid when the battles .of his
country were won : hail he never .woven for
himself schemes of ngrramlizement and ambi
tion—he had been spared the name ota tt trai
tor."
lint the voice of his mnd;unquiet spirit was
stronger far titan that of affection : he crushed
down all such thoughts, and said firmly, though,
tenderli:—
" Inez. T must go : but I will not forget.—
We will meet again, beloved."
Yet ere he went forth from her presence for
ever, Tnez Velasquez had flung about his no:
a slight golden chain 'of antique but exquisite
workmanship, from which hung suspended a,
a blood-red cross, out from the sparkling ruby
stone.
" Wear J his when you fight your country's
battles," she cried. " Wear it nett your
heart ; 'twill guard you from harm. It was
a gift 10 my sire by Granada's sovereign in his
native Spain. Ile has often worn it in the fray
of war, and it proved a talisman to guard him.
When the ruby gleams red as blood, safety fol
lows thy steps; but if it pales, then brware, for
danger is nigh thee. Wear it (or my sake;
and, looking upon it, remember Inez."
And this blood-red ruby cross, henceforth to
be worn next his heart, was Benedict Arnold's
talisman—his charm—his amulet.
IL I IIL WO If 1 11 Ti .11 Yi 23 .P aTi :1) PI 3.3
ALLF 4\ NTOWN, P AUGUST 22, 18:1:1.
Ycars, thick, crowding, and full of strange.
gallant daring deeds, unknown before in the
World's history, went by. An infant people
had thrown oft their shackles, and proudly
taken a place among the nations of the earth.
There were brave words thrilling thousands
of stout American hearts, spoken in Congress;
there were tales of war and victory repeated
over at nightfall beside every hearthstone in the
land ; there were battles and the flush of con-
quest.
But ah, the picture has a darker side !
There were sufferings which had no parallel
in the people's annals. An army of men re
solved to •' fight to the death," law at Valley
Forge, almost nal:ea and starving, in the
dead of a severe winter. Mothers Orded the
ward to their sons' breasts, and sent them forth
to the battle tield with a God speed" on their
ps.
But over• all these suffeting soldiers the
eagle spirit of n brave man held
through all the toil and bloodshed of the eight
years' war. his eagle eye s tw the future glori
ous destiny of his country.
And lie of the eagle spirit and eye, was that
great, good man, l.igonGo : and
beside him. sustaining and helping him in his
arduous toils, were brave and gallant aids,
foremost among whom stood Benedict Arnold.
And in those years of peril' and struggles, by
deeds of gallant daring. his star• attained its
zenith. Certainly. if ever man won glory by
toil and bravery, that man was .krnold.
yhrough the lark pine forests of Maine,
with his band of iron men, through deep wil
dernesscs shrouded in snows, across rivers,
cold dark, and.turbil, down steeps and rapids,
and penetrating the tangled, unbroken fast•
nesse:: or no untrodden region, had he accom
plished a pri!ous journey.
And th , ..n. who 11 keelin2; gn:u•d by the Nl'a. Ch
tires without the city oW the heights of Quebec,
in the keen. piercing cold of a Canadian win
ter, on the eh - notions battle plain, the gal
lant det , l4 44 - thls bravo that the
tide of patriotism ran strong within his veins.
.111'1 arLOMN" I. SAV'tiO where lib; good
iglit at•:u turned the tile of battle and won the
vi,•tory --at the gloriom; sea tight of Lake Cham
plain, where lie Will at olive hero and general—
amrrica 101.1 no mod or more daring iucn
to fight le l. battle; Lluon the scone Bent,liet Ar-
ME
1•'or then Ora foul stnii, Which no hand can
w;pe away, Mel not sealed down, like a cloud
01 hlackncsA, mon his name. No. thank fled,
Vier(' yt ars when he was no traitor.
To his alter life belongs this Intl decd. Let
us not talk of it now—only .of his glory. Time
when no truer:more patriotic heart beat in
an American hosont than his.
Who, then, looking. down the dint villa of
the ruti!, would have said :—`• 'This man will
Larne Li country ?"
That man Of foresight and prtnlenee, George
Washington, did not look tor such treason
when, in a letter to Congress, reerm mending
that Arnold should be sent to the northern
army, he wrote :
"
lie is active, judicious,. and brave, and an
officer in whom the militia will repose great
confldence."
Arnold himself knew not to what depths he
should fall, when, galled by the tardinesf, of
hh.; country in conferring the rank upon him he
had so fully earned, he resigned his cOonnission
with these proud words :
I am ready to risk my life for my c. - mntry ;
but honor is a sacrifice that man ought to
make."
(), no : his star, which had risen so brightly
Tioonderoga and Qnebee, wn•hich hail culinl
nand at Saratoga, had not yet begun slOpe
down the sky or honor, Nvlwn, alas' it was a
star 116 more, but a brilliant Meteor flashing
down a darkening sky—a blazing ship, " with
broken masts disniantled all," adrift, go
ing.down in a black, midnight sea.
There were live long years of glory granted
to Benedict Arnold—live years, wherein he
wrote the record of dazzling deeds -upon the
scroll of fate—live '.years wherein Ills heart,
warm and yielding as the fresh-molten lava,
had lie thnc to cool, and harden, and become
like iron in the s eori,r of Hide and revenge
ivhich afterward encrusted it.
Aml in those five year of glory, whether on
land or sea..:tinid the burning heats or a south
ern summer, or the rig“rs of a northern winter,
he never once quailed heft re the tbe. :
And even then, in toilsome nuireh
the wilderness, on the snow crowned heights Of
Quebec, at Saratoga, Danbury, and Champlain,
in conquest and in glory, still that blood
red cross had never dimmed, but lay like
a sentinel of fire, guarding his heart—that
heart. which, amid its dream's of g lo ry , h a d
well nigh forgotten the giver of this ruby amu
let—sWeet Inez Valesquez.
There cattle a time when, deny it as we may,
Benedict Arnold received injury at the hands
of the country he had so faithfully served.
CHAPTER If
CH A PTER 111
We say this, not to palliate the crime of his
treason—Maven forbid i—there were no wrong
great enough to drive a true heart to that—hat
to show how a brave man may sometimes be
worried into madness.
Benedict Arnold had his glory and his crimes
he had his wromge, too.
There were aspertions cast upon his hith
erto fair thine. Ile had been accused of sei7.-
Mg certain goods at Montreal without law ful
warrant. Congress had ailipointed live major
generals, all his juniors in rank, without re
membering in the distribution of her favors,
the hero of Quebec and Champlain. and then
sought by the paltry gift of a war bor4!, to
recompense him for the blood he had ;shed in
the service of his country.
And such proceedings as these terribly gall
ed this impetuouS man. True. af.erward his
set Vico; were recognized. when the board of
%var declared that his character had been un
justly aspersed. and Congress gave him the
rank he had so fully won : but their tardiness
and ne6deet had 'sunk into his heart to rankle
there.
'Chafed and slung, be had resigned his com
mis,ion : but when, et the instance of Wa,h
ington, lie was called to join the army in the
north, lie did not hesitate, but :wain 'went
forth to light his country's battles.
And thun a series of brilliant victories fol
lowed, wherein lie honored lilinselr and Amer
ica : when he was junior in cominan4, NV:t.; at
once leader and hero.
In May, 1778 Arnold joined the army at
Valley Forge, and shortly afterward took up
his re , idence at Philadelphia, where he mar
ried leis lovely child wife, the beautiful Mar
garet Shippen. the friend and correspondent of
Major Andre, the leader of fitshion and gaiety.
in the Quaker y. yet, withal, the friend and
cot p:mion of her hero husband.
Alas that in all those long years since his
ship sailed out of the harbor of Havana. and
he turned its prow toward his native ) land, iu
those live years of glory on the battle field
whir such melt its George Washington, Ethan
lien, and Daniel Morgan for his commmions,
—in the brilliant saloons of Philadelphia, with
bright eyes beaming upon hint, and such a
woman as Margaret Arnold for his wife,--with
such honors as Congress eventually, thought
tardily, had heaped upon him.--alas that Bene
dict Atnohl had no memory of the promise his
lips had spoken. no thoughts fir the Spanish
girl. who long ere this had been laid to sleep
under the gay green sod of her native Indian
isle !
For sweet Inez Coln I nez was dead.
The hot Spanish blood of her sites flowed not
so strong within her veins as the gentler tide
caught from the heart of her blue-eyed En
glish mother. 11.1. pride could not crush her
tenderne'ss, hence her life went out in the
struggle.
Iklonth after month. year after year, rolled
their weary circles into the eternity of the past.
And still the impetuous, gallant American, who
had won her heart. came not.
Then she knew that Benedict Arnold had
deserted her, and then she drooped and died.
Truly fin• the heart Link On Inez,—
.The qttie , est sleep wa: underneath the ground.
And thus 'it was that in that quaint old
Nfoorish garden, washed by the ocean tides
sweeping outward from the harbor of Havana,
they laid her down to sleep ; thns it was that
where her life began it ended : wbt re her heart
wa:t won; it broke, and Over 11 , r white head
stone the starry jasmines waved to and fro like.
cloud of hovering mid the scarlet
pomegranate blossoms flat Cll.ll like a
flock of flame winged birds c ontinually
:dinllt
ing upon tut grace.
' Poor Inc/. Velaseincz !
And all the time, while the tuby life-tide
was ebbing, within thy hunt, thy gift, the
blood-red cross, had Inver hided upon thy.
lover's. Still, like' a thing or fire, it burned
upon his breast, while the fires of ambition
were smoduring withim—those baleful Ilaines,
which, when wakened there, would Kapp up the
very life-blood of hi.: lionta:.
Step by step he was walking the path whose
end was ruin. Slowly his star was sloping to
its downward way.
.And so they made the Spanish maiden a
grave amid the richness of the tropics, awl all
luxuriant, I.eantiful things. Better by nu for
Benedict Arnold had he died too, and been laid
to sleeu beside her—he had not lived to become
a traitor then.
C11.11"rEl:
L 1 . 11 l S the noon of
Ever since the gray Twilight set in, had
General Arnold been closeted in the library
of his mansion, then known as the Penn House,
with his business agent, writing letters, and
making, the necessary arrangements for the
dispespl of Ids personal property in Philadel
phia for that day had lie received from
Washington the command of West Feint, and
the morrow's sun must see him on his journey
thither.
T.' I') 11E1 4C.
But when midnight calm, ell arrangements
were completed. Transfers had been made,
deeds signed, large sums of gold deposited in
Ids agent's hands, In meet the immense debts
which he had incurred by his lavi,hprodigal
ity and princely style of living: and lv 1 ien the
bells from the old State House pealed forth
the hour of twelve, Arncld was alone once
more.
Slowly sitting hinr , dr in his arm chair,
after the sound of his agents receding; foot
steps had died along 'the hall, he leaned his
elbow on the table, and his head tilion his
hand.
Ilis face looked anxious. pale, and careworn :
and well it might ; for those last few Month,:
of his life had not only kft their iron impros
upon his brow, but in his heart.
Ilis very attitude beti.kell«l wcarines.. ire
MIS %V (ALIT , wearied to death. at the treasen
nide game lie was playing : for it was no light
thing, even for that daring, indomitable, rash
man. to become a traitor.
Ile had an honored name: his country re
posed trust in him : 'Washington wa,; Lis
friend : and in the great wrong he had plan
ned. and which seemed almci,d, upon the eve
of consununation—liad he no cause for n-
11101' , I ?
And for fear too ? -for what if lie should
d''l ? It was no idle game he held in his
hand : and the stakes' were fearfully heavy.
Yonder, in his efibinet, lay the commisshm
front Congress which had raked hint to the
rank of major general : bcfere him. upon the
table, lay the letter front the commander-in
chief, which confirmed hint in the command of
West Point; and in th:it tiny inlaid rosewood
writing desk, tt Bich stood upon the little
table in the southern bow window, where Mar
garet Arnold came often to sit near her bus
b toil, and pen her friendly letters to John An
dre, lay the replies to his offers of treason.
And General Arnold's youthful wife little
knew that her lively letters, detailing the
gaieties of her life in the Quaker City, and .
Major Andre's reldies, which, tied together
with a dainty blue ribbon, filled one corner of
her writing desk, where the vehicles of her hus
band's treason—that, interlined between her
delicate chirog,raphy, he had written his prem
ises to deliver West Point over to the British.
Arnold knew that the gaMe was begun.—
Sting his conscience ever so fiercely, it must be
played through ; but in that midnight hour.
when everything was arranged, and he seemed
on the very verge of success, that bold, bad
man trembled.
Lilce a panorama. every scene of his event
ful career• passed before his mental vision—the
Itail: pine forests of )laine. the walls Of Quetwc,
the blue iva' ens of Champlain. the battle 1111
of Saratoga : and over anti above all this
Sera seemed written, in lurid diameters;
as witlrn pen of lire, the single wm•l, " Traitor
traitor !"
The quiet or the night, and hi:: rnpidly rush
lig thoughtS, maddened him. He rose, and
strap• the mon.'
" "l'is the infernal plot !" he muttered.
huskily• "By heaven. hail any man said to
me at 'ricotta ero-a nr Quebee,.., Benedict Ar
nold, you. will Line:::.3lay play the traitor,' I
would have ground him hack to dust beneath
my heel I. lint now—now," and he smote the
air with clinched II , " now what am I but
that amused thims,
Then Lis mond changul. Ilk lips grew firm.
1-; thon , Ji eta from iron ; his eye hazel with
tate nml worn
" Yet why,'
' he went on, •‘ why should it
madden Wit. sn ? Ilave 1 nut had cause I" , r
this ? Were not abuses heaped upon nu.? hi l
not a lawle;:s mob assault 111 C, :111(1 surround
my dwelling ? Diil not Congr(ss treat. toe dis
honorably, •mijustly, ? Piil not
(letir , :e Washington insult me at ..forristiiwn ?
And shall 1 sit here weallly inOurning bteause
the hour of my reettige is nigh ? No ! This
cursed country shall 11111'e ea use for woe, as it
has given me V:111S12 fOr the decd 1 have chine.--
CUII:vreSS Shan have VC:Lit/111 ' 0r now.
GrurT•c 11:ashingum shall not have it to ;;ay
that he relillie , l me. public:lllS., and I lankly
Lure the insult.
gave them the best years of ony life --the
strength of .my manhood. I shed my bloo L l
like water : but, by Ileaven, they've had the
last droll front my veins ! Now-now. I can
avenge myself! lla ! this shouhl he a royal
hone I" ad, in his intense excitement, he strode
to and fro with flashing eyes.
SuiLlculy a white hand, sparkliug
jcWdS, wasdaid upon his ayln, and a soft vice
said :
" General Arnold —My huslutml !"
He turned, and his beautiful ehild•wife, clad
in white fleecy garments; as though attired.for
a festival, stood beside him.
A soft •beam lighted his eye, and a tender
smile quivered around his lip.
" Margaret, aro you here ?" he said. " I
thought you were, at some brilliant levee to
night.l!
"'I did go," she replied ; " but . thouF.o6
of your pale face haunted me, and so I order.
ed the carriage home again. And now I find'
you, restless and excited, pacing the floor.—
You have some trouble. This command to
West Point involves you in some way. You
are ill, perhnps. What is it, Arnold?" and
the true-hearted wife clung to .his arm.
"No : it is nothing. Margaret. You are
rri;•hleacd. I have been ninhing the necessary
urran ! :emenfs (or leaving Philadelphia, and
am only fatigued c that is all," he replied,
J
‘• llut these long night watches, after Jays of
toil, are lon 11111C/1 fu • XOll. Arnold, they are
killing you. You must get sleep before you
start on your journey."'
" Sleep ! I wonder if I trill crrr sleep
again !" he echoed, wildly, shaking off her
:11111, and walking to and fro. " Yes. I will
sleep, Margail t : but tot until I reach West
Point. There. I must needs slumber soundly
and sweetly—patriots a 'woys do, do they, not ?"
and corning back and pausing beside her, he
lan lied nervously. " my sweet wee wife
does not know what a true-hearted, loyal pa
triot Benedict Arnold is "
" I know my husband for a brave and noble
soldier," said Mrs. Arnold proudly.
Arnold groaned aloud in the' bitterness of
his humiliation, and coversd his face with his
hands. The iron fangs of remorse were begin
ning to fasten upon his sold.
"A brayu and noble soldier." Alas! and
that is riLl To a pa/riot's name he had no
Still Lis young wife stood beside him.
pleading that he would try and slap cre the
OEM
" T can find no time for test. The hours of
the night are precious. 'Arndt yet remains un
d.me heroic my journey," was his reply. " I
go early in the morninfr. You will join mo by
tho - "lst. Till thn, adieu, Margaret, sweet
wiit, f.w I must ma you leave me now." And
witiNhe gallantry of a lover, lie kissed her,
and was leading her to the door of the apart
ment.
litr.zaret, Arm hl toll: her husband's arm.--
As they passed beneath the bigh marble man
tle, whet eon a solitary candle burned and
flickered in the tall br.kize caltalabra, Arnold's
eye cdoght the Idimps6 of something red and
upon hi; wile's neck.
Rapidly thru . sf.ing his hand into his bosom,
he a; rapidly drew it forth again : then bend
ing over h er , an d grasping the ornament, ho
a.d:c.d. in a husky voice :
I\rargaret, how came you by this T'
For there, ::nspended from her dainty white
leek, by the slender chain of gold, and burn•
m;• red as lire upon her bosom, hung the ruby
!ros,;.
This ?" echoed Arnold, taking the
cross from her husband's fingers. "0, to bo
sure, I Grand it where General Arnold slyly de
posited it- 7 -in my writing desk! How kind
and thoughtful of you to make me such a
birthday gift ! but how queer to put it there !
But, piny, where did you procure it ? I assure
you that. with my new
.jewels, I was quite the
belle of the party t 9 night, and was asked
sonic half dozen times where they were pur
chased, or if they were family jewels. Jill
deed, one gentleman sought the privilege of
examining them, and declared the ruby real,
of immense value, and the antique workman
ship of the chain exquisites. Pray where did
you get them, Arnold ?" she playfully re
torted.
6eneral Arnold sat: her mistake, for she
had not noticed his quivering white lips,
and he resolved to profit by it, and in as
calm a voice as he could assume, he replied
.'• my Maggie is pleased with her . gift ?
Well, then, I am glad ; hut go now--yet leave
me the et os,; au I chain. I would like to ex
:mine their worionmship at my leisure, for it
k a fort trini,et. There, go now." And
!e elt. the c;%.., , nom herLan;l, they parted,
with a gr:wd-nhilit hies, at the door.
Ccncrtil Arnold went bad:, and stood be
neath the li!dit upon the mantel, and gazed long
and earn.. , tly upon the tvinlset he held.
umst have drooped it from my neck into
her wilting tle,k," he murmured, remembering
how, at dead of night, he had risen from his
1,01 to write in his wife's ter; hr.i messages
Andre. Iltnv strange that I did not
• it !'
‘• Putt, ha! what is this ? IVhat iffier words,
which I ilocined hat an idle superstition, should
prove true By heat•e:ts, they are, they are
true, Ana ,:/:1 Arnold shrieked
aloud : 11)1. Inez Vilasquez's gift, the ruby
eross, had grown pale benrath his.gaze.
linutes, long . to hint as hours went . by;
and he oply nuu•ruured in a strange, hollow
MUM
•. tail. calire, but tco
I) hit L
And Ilion, as waters will i.emetimes bubble
up clear and limpid fi.nt the deep black spring,
:;.-) from the heat t tint proud, passionate,.
iuiperioux 1111:71 g , •oted forth memories of that
love dream of his youth.
And with tear:; in his eyes, he wandered in
:pmt along the terraced Wallig of that
_paint,
ohl ~ ,, : arden, under the blazing star
li,;:ht of tropic bri.athud airs fragrant of
pomegranate a n d orange ; and, ono by one, as
a monk counts his beads, he said over the
b . rokell tows uttered in that sweet, sweet
springtime of the heart.
Dead, dead !" he murmured sadly. " I
know it all now. All these long years ammo
have gone by, and her heart not broken....rny
" Alas !'and thus it has been - frog , thing, I
1 1 1 1 1 ;:v l e e l ii i t l i t s l l B :etl e‘ b7l3• g iVlt :: 1 1:1 1 1
tins n arniu~ o[
added in a hollos v9'i to look tbrward to but
my iloom,ll. -/ I
0 far, contempt and scorn ?"
‘ka,thi',Or't.Nt! limns of night wore on, and gritty
came, and with a heavy Dart Bono
diet Amold set forth for IVest Point. •
CONTINUED ON SECOND PAGE..