The Loyalist. James Francis Barrett

the most part, accurately and in conformity with the sober truths of history. Pains have been taken to depict the various historical episodes which enter into the story—such as the attempted formation of the Regiment of Roman Catholic Volunteers, the court-martial of Major General Arnold, the Military Mass on the occasion of the anniversary of American Independence—with as much fidelity to truth as possible. The anti-Catholic sentences, employed in the reprimand of Captain Meagher, are anachronisms; they are identical, however, with utterances made in the later life of Benedict Arnold. The influence of Peggy Shippen upon her husband is vouched for by eminent authority.

      Due appreciation and sincere gratitude must be expressed to those authors from whom much information has been taken—to John Gilmary Shea, in his "History of the Catholic Church in the United States"; to Martin I. J. Griffin's "Catholics and the American Revolution"; to F. J. Stimson's excellent work, "Memoirs of Benedict Arnold"; to John Fiske's "American Revolution," and to the many other works which have freely been made use of in the course of this writing. Cordial thanks are also due to those who have generously assisted by suggestions and criticisms, and especially to those who have devoted their valuable moments to the revision of the proof sheets.

      J. F. B.

THE LOYALIST

       Table of Contents

PART ONE

       Table of Contents

CHAPTER I

       Table of Contents

      "Please continue, Peggy. You were telling me who were there and what they wore. Oh, dear! I am so sorry mother would not give me leave to go. Was it all too gay?"

      "It was wonderful!" was the deliberate reply. "We might have danced till now had not Washington planned that sudden attack. We had to leave then—that was early this morning—and I spent the day abed."

      It was now well into the evening and the two girls had been seated for the longest time, it seemed, on the small sofa which flanked the east wall of the parlor. The dusk, which had begun to grow thick and fast when Marjorie had come to visit Peggy, was now quite absorbed into darkness; still the girls had not lighted the candles, choosing to remain in the dark until the story of the wonderful experience of the preceding day had been entirely related.

      The grand pageant and mock tournament, the celebrated Mischienza, arranged in honor of General Howe, who had resigned his office as Commander-in-chief of His Majesty's forces in America to return to England, there to defend himself against his enemies in person, as General Burgoyne was now doing from his seat in Parliament, was an event long to be remembered not alone from the extravagance of its display, but from the peculiar prominence it afforded the foremost families of the city, particularly that of the Shippens.

      Edward Shippen was a gentleman of rank, of character, of fortune, a member of one of the oldest and most respected families in the city of Philadelphia, whose ancestor, of the same name, had been Mayor of the city nigh an hundred years before. He belonged to the Society of Friends, or Quakers, and while he took no active interest on either side during the years of the war, still he was generally regarded as one of the sympathizers of the Crown. Because of the social eminence which the family enjoyed and the brilliance and genial hospitality which distinguished their affairs, the Shippens were considered the undisputed leaders of the social set of Philadelphia. The three lovely Misses Shippen were the belles of the more aristocratic class. They were toasted frequently by the gay English officers during the days of the British occupation, for their father's house was often the rendezvous of the titled celebrities of the day.

      "And was your Captain there, too?" continued Marjorie, referring, of course, to Captain Monstresor, the engineer of the undertaking, an erstwhile admirer of Mistress Peggy.

      "You must know, my dear, that he arranged the spectacle. I saw little of him until the dance. In truth, he seemed more popular than General Howe himself."

      Marjorie sat up.

      "Tell me! Did the tournament begin the program?"

      "No!" replied Peggy. "The military procession of boats and barges with Lords Howe and Rawdon, General Howe and General Clinton, opened the event in the late morning, sailing up the river to the Wharton House, the scene of the tournament."

      Marjorie nodded.

      "The noise of the guns was deafening. When the flotilla arrived at Walnut Grove, which was lined with troops and bedecked brilliantly with flags and bunting, the pageant opened."

      "Where were you in the meantime?" asked Marjorie, careful to lose no detail.

      "We were seated in the pavilions—seven ladies in each—clothed in Turkish garments, each wearing in her turban the favor to be bestowed on her victorious knight."

      "And who was your knight?"

      "The Honorable Captain Cathcart," quickly replied Peggy, her eyes beaming with a smile of evident satisfaction and proud joy.

      "Lord Cathcart, whom I met here?"

      "The same," answered Peggy. "He was the leader of the 'Knights of the Blended Rose.'"

      "What an odd name!" she exclaimed.

      "I know it. They were named after their device. They were dressed in white and red silk, mounted on gray horses and attended by esquires. They were preceded by a herald who bore their device, two roses intertwined above the motto, 'We droop when separated.' My knight rode at the head, attended by two British Officers, and his two esquires, the one bearing his lance, the other his shield emblazoned with his device—Cupid astride a lion—over the motto, Surrounded by love.'"

      "You little Tory," interrupted Marjorie. "I shall tell General Washington that you are disloyal and have lent your sympathy to a British Officer."

      "I care little. The Yankees are without refinement——"

      "Don't you dare say that," snapped Marjorie, her whole being animated with sudden anger. "It is untrue and you know it. They are patriots and——"

      "Forgive me, dear," murmured Peggy, laying her hand on the arm of her irate friend. "I said that only in jest. I shan't continue if you are vexed."

      There was silence.

      "Please! I am not angry," Marjorie pleaded. "Do continue."

      "I forget my story now. What did I tell? There was so much that I am confused."

      "The Knights of the Rose!" suggested Marjorie.

      "Oh, yes! Well, this body of knights made the circuit of the square and then saluted their ladies. On a sudden, a herald advanced with a flourish of trumpets and announced that the ladies of the Blended Rose excelled in wit, beauty, grace, charm and accomplishments those of the whole world and challenged a denial by deeds of arms. Whereupon a counter sound of trumpets was heard from afar and another herald galloped before a body of knights in black and orange silk with the device—a wreath of flowers surrounding a burning heart—over the motto, 'Love and Glory.' These were the Knights of the Burning Mountain, who came to dispute the claim of the Knights of the Blended Rose."

      "It must have been gorgeous!" exclaimed Marjorie, clasping her hands before her.

      "Indeed it was. Well, after several preliminaries, the encounter took place, the knights receiving their lances together with their shields from their esquires, whereupon they saluted and encountered at full speed, shivering their spears against the shield of their adversaries. They next encountered and discharged their pistols and then fought with swords. Again the two chiefs of the warring factions, Captain Cathcart of the Blended Rose and