“It is not much for your services and risks, I acknowledge,” continued the general, “but it is all that I have to offer; hereafter, it may be in my power to increase it.”
“Does your excellency think that I have exposed my life, and blasted my character, for money?”
“If not for money, what then?”
“What has brought your excellency into the field? For what do you daily and hourly expose your precious life to battle and the halter? What is there about me to mourn, when such men as you risk their all for our country? No, no, no—not a dollar of your gold will I touch; poor America has need of it all!”
The bag dropped from the hand of the officer, and fell at the feet of the peddler, where it lay neglected during the remainder of the interview. The officer looked steadily at the face of his companion, and continued,—
“There are many motives which might govern me, that to you are unknown. Our situations are different; I am known as the leader of armies—but you must descend into the grave with the reputation of a foe to your native land. Remember that the veil which conceals your true character cannot be raised in years—perhaps never.”
Birch again lowered his face, but there was no yielding of the soul in the movement.
“You will soon be old; the prime of your days is already past; what have you to subsist on?”
“These!” said the peddler, stretching forth his hands, that were already embrowned with toil.
“But those may fail you; take enough to secure a support to your age. Remember your risks and cares. I have told you that the characters of men who are much esteemed in life depend on your secrecy; what pledge can I give them of your fidelity?”