Washington, who had resumed his angry pacing of the room, once again halted. “Explain your meaning, sir.”
“In your heat, your Excellency has clearly forgot the tale Miss Meredith’s letter told of General Lee’s conduct as regards herself and her father. With the feeling I bear for her, human nature could not brook such behaviour, and it was that for which I challenged him.”
The general stood silent for a moment, then said, “I have been too hasty in my action, Brereton, and have drawn a conclusion that was not justified. I owe you an apology for my words, and trust that this acknowledgment will end the misunderstanding.” He offered his hand, as he ended, to the aide.
“I thank your Excellency,” answered Jack, “for your prompt reparation, but before accepting it and taking your hand, sir, it is my painful necessity to tell you that I have fully merited all the anger you have expressed. Guiltless as I am of fault as regards General Lee, I have committed a far greater offence against you,—a wrong, sir, which, done with however much deliberation, has caused me unending pain and remorse.”
“Explain yourself, my boy,” said Washington, kindly.
“Despite your decision, sir, I added a postscript in your letter to Governor Livingston touching upon the case of Mr. Meredith, and made you express a good opinion of him and a recommendation that he be dealt with leniently. I now hold in my hand a letter from a Trenton friend informing me that this recommendation induced the Governor to commute the death sentence into imprisonment. It is but the news I awaited before informing your Excellency of my breach of trust; and I should have made full confession to you within the hour, had you not sent for me, as I supposed, to charge me with this very treachery. And ’t was this of which I was thinking when I spoke expectingly of a court-martial.”
During the whole explanation, Washington had stood fixedly, his brows knit, and when the aide paused, he said nothing for a minute; then he asked:—
“Has there been aught in the past, sir, to have made me merit from you such a stab?”
“None, sir,” answered Jack, gravely. “And whatever reason I can find for the action in my own heart, there is nothing I can offer in its defence to you.”
Washington sat down at his desk and leaned his head on his hand. “Is it not enough,” he said, “that Congress is filled with my enemies, that the generals on whom I must depend are scheming my ruin and their own advancement, but that even within my own family I cannot find those who will be faithful to me? My God! is there no one I can trust?”