“I have written to General Washington, and I may hear from him very soon. I do hope that you can help me.”
As Arnold finished the last sentence, he walked out of the rooms of Roderick Barclugh with the most forlorn expression. His chin was resting on his breast as he walked to his home, there, maybe, to receive another imperious demand for money.
CHAPTER XXVII
“General Arnold, I can not and shall not be subjected to these miserable indignities any longer,” exclaimed Mrs. Arnold, as she hysterically left her husband at the breakfast table and went to her bed-chamber.
On the day after Barclugh had arrived in Philadelphia, the Commander of the town had been presented with the demands for the servants’ wages, bills for two gowns, and pay for the oysters and fish from Sven Svenson, by his wife at breakfast, and his reply was:
“My dear, I have no money to-day.”
Arnold was brave in the midst of battle, but in the presence of an imperious and unreasoning wife he was an abject coward. A look from his wife was a command to Arnold, and he allowed his domestic expenses to ruin him and drive him into desperation, because he did not dare to curb within his means an unreasonably extravagant woman.
After Mrs. Arnold, in a fit of temper, had left her husband, Arnold arose in dismay, then sat down dejectedly in his chair. His brow was wrinkled; his eyes wore an expression of the fox, driven to bay; his frame shook with anguish; his hands clenched his hair; and he sought relief mentally, by reasoning out his situation to himself: