“You hear no excuse from Nathaniel himself. He’s the only one who makes none. But we know what was in his mind. He believed what was told him by the woman he loved, who wasn’t a fool. She believed it herself, and so did every experienced officer and old soldier in the British army. Why shouldn’t Nathaniel believe it? They made him believe it! They all believed the cause of the colonies was lost, and all who fought in that cause were doomed—that there was no hope left for the American army or for the American people; and so the sooner the American people knew it and stopped fighting, the better it would be for them. Nathaniel was helpless except to stay where he was—and ah, that was where the woman he loved was, too, General—but he thought that if he stayed, he might help his mother, his sisters, his father, his brother, and all his own people at home, when the war was at an end. Ah, but I believe you understand this, General. I do believe you do.”

Arnold frowned. “Oh, understand it! Understand it!” he said harshly. “Anybody can understand a man’s behaving as Merrill has, since he believed what you say he did, The trouble is to understand his believing such nonsense, even though he heard it from a handsome woman!” He laughed angrily and added, “Yes, and from experienced British officers! Good God!”

He breathed heavily, glaring from one to the other of us. Then, irascibly, he said to Nathaniel, “Well, what was it they told you? What were their reasons for thinking the cause of the colonies was lost?”

We looked expectantly at Nathaniel. He sighed and said nothing. Ellen sank to her knees beside him and seized his hand. “Nathaniel!” she whispered. “Nathaniel! Didn’t you hear? We’re waiting for you to speak! We came here with you! We’re helping you, and you’re not helping us! They’re all waiting! Your mother! Your sisters!”

Nathaniel looked at Arnold. “They had a thousand reasons. All the old reasons.”

His eyes were fixed on the floor.

“Well, let’s have ’em,” Arnold said. Once more Ellen seized Nathaniel’s hand.