II
The progress of the work in the city of Philadelphia had been less evident to him. Certain it was that Anderson was directing his undivided attention to the furtherance of the plan, for which task he had been admirably endowed by Nature. That Arnold, too, was greatly interested in the success of the plot, he already suspected, but in this he had no more than a suspicion, for he could not discover the least incriminating objective evidence against him. There were several whose names had been associated with the work; yet these, too, had revealed nothing, when confronted with a direct question. And whatever influence he might have had, whatever lurking suspicions he might have accumulated from the contributory details, these when simmered down amounted to little or nothing. The plan had not progressed to the extent required. There was nothing to do but to await further developments.
This man Anderson was ingenuous. The most striking characteristic about him, that towards which and in support of which every energy and every talent had been schooled and bent, was an intrepid courage. A vast and complicated scheme of ambition possessed his whole soul, yet his disposition and address generally appeared soft and humane, especially when no political object was at stake.
During the four or five months spent in the city, he had made a host of friends among all classes of people. His agreeable manner and his fluency of speech at once gained for him the confidence even of the most phlegmatic. No man was endowed with more engaging qualities for the work, if it may be assumed that he was engaged solely in the recruiting of a Tory Regiment from among the supporters of the Whigs. Everything seemed to declare that he was associated with the work. And because he was associated with it, it progressed.
The names of several who had yielded allegiance to the opposite side were in the hands of Stephen. The Major of the new regiment was a Catholic, John Lynch. So were Lieutenant Eck, Lieutenant Kane, and Quartermaster Nowland. These were at present in New York, whither they had journeyed soon after the British occupation of the city. Of the hundred-odd volunteers, who were supposed to constitute the company, little could be learned because of the veil of secrecy which had from the very beginning enshrouded the whole movement.
Pressure had been brought to bear on several, it was discovered, with the result that there was no alternative left them but to sign the papers of enlistment. In this Anderson had been materially aided by the Military Governor's intimate knowledge of the fortunes and prospects of the bulk of the citizenry. To imply this, however, was one thing; to prove it quite another. For whatever strength the accusation might bear in his own mind, he could not forget that it was still a mere suspicion, which must be endorsed by investigation if the people were to be convinced. And Stephen was unprepared to offer the results of his investigation to a populace which was too indolent and hasty to investigate them as facts and to discriminate nicely between the shades of guilt. Anderson was loved and admired by his countrymen and more especially by his countrywomen. Everything, it seemed, would be forgiven his youth, rank and genius.
Even Marjorie had been captivated by him, it appeared. The relationship which was beginning to thrive between them he disliked, and some day he would make that known to her. How attentive he had been to her was easily recognizable, but to what degree she returned this attention was another matter. What she thought of this stranger and to what extent he had impressed her, he longed to know, for it was weeks since he had laid eyes on her; and the last two attempts made by him to see her had found her in the company of Anderson, once at Shippen's, and again on a ride through the country. True, he himself had been absent from town for a brief time, immediately after his court-martial, when he returned to headquarters to file a report with his Commander-in-chief, and the few moments spent with her upon his return was the last visit. Undoubtedly he was a stranger to her now; she was absorbed with the other man.
Still Stephen wished that he might see her. An insatiable longing filled his whole soul, like the eternal cravings of the heart for communion with the Infinite. There was certain situations where a man or woman must confide in some person to obtain advice or sympathy, or simply to unload the soul, and there was no one more becoming to Stephen than this girl. She understood him and could alleviate by her sole presence, not through any gift properly made, but by that which radiated from her alone, the great weight which threatened to overwhelm his whole being. Simply to converse with her might constitute the prophecy of a benign existence.
He determined to see her that very evening.