his sanction to my addresses.  Consult your own happiness, and, if incompatible, forget there is so unhappy a wretch.  May I perish before I would give you one moment’s inquietude to procure the greatest possible felicity to myself!  Whatever my fate may be, my most ardent wish is for your happiness, and my latest breath will be to implore the blessing of Heaven on the idol and only wish of my soul.”  And yet the writer of these fine sentiments presently sells her peace and happiness and his own honor for a sum of money almost too pitifully small to be named!  They were married in April, 1779.  By this union with the daughter of a loyalist, however professing neutrality, Arnold must have been thrown much into the society of the enemies of his country’s cause—­men whose principles were entirely at variance with his own—­and doubtless his defection may be indirectly laid to the subtle influence of Tory companionship:  certainly, his reckless intimacy with well-known if not openly-avowed foes of American independence caused his military superiors to look askance at his movements, and more than justified the caution of a Congress jealous of the least shadow that menaced the struggling cause of liberty.

[Footnote 4:  See Letters and Papers relating to the Provincial History of Pennsylvania, by Mr. Thomas Balch.]

The newly-wedded pair set up their household in the old Penn mansion (long since torn down) on a scale of magnificence in no way warranted by Arnold’s means.  Their great coach-and-four was seen thundering back and forth through the streets of the quiet little town, and a motley throng of guests, Whig and Tory, were entertained at a table where nothing was thought too choice and costly for their delectation.  Matters were carried with such extravagance that debt soon pressed upon the thoughtless pair, and prudent people began to inquire curiously into Arnold’s administration of public affairs.  Whispers soon grew into loud complaints, and a court-martial was presently convened to investigate certain charges brought against him by the Executive Council, comprising peculation, misappropriation of public funds, etc.  During the tedious deliberation of this body of his fellow-officers, and in the almost certain event of the day going against him, Arnold laid his plan for the grand coup, which, if successful, would at once gratify his deep longing for revenge and place him, as he fondly hoped, at the very summit of his ambition—­the equal of the proudest noble, the lauded servant of a grateful prince.  It seems almost incredible that he should have persevered in his design after the very lenient decision of his judges, who acquitted him of all save the most trifling of the charges against him, and decreed that he should merely receive a reprimand from the commander-in-chief.  Every one knows the encouraging and beautiful advice with which this slight censure was tempered, and must recognize the fine manly spirit that prompted it:  it should have sunk deeply into the culprit’s heart and made of him the grateful friend of Washington for ever.  It did indeed sink deeply, but it was into a traitor’s heart, and it rankled there.