“My son, I have determined to allow you to join Lord Fairfax, and I have sent an inquiry to him, an hour ago, asking at what time to-morrow you should meet him in Fredericksburg. You may remain with him until December; but the first mild spell in December I wish you to go down to Mount Vernon for Christmas, as I promised.”
George’s delight was so great that he grew pale with pleasure. He would have liked to catch his mother in his arms and kiss her, but mother and son were chary of showing emotion. Therefore he only took her hand and kissed it, saying, breathlessly:
“Thank you, mother. I hardly hoped for so much pleasure.”
“But it is not for pleasure that I let you go,” replied his mother, who, according to the spirit of the age, referred everything to duty. “’Tis because I think my Lord Fairfax’s company will be of benefit to you; and as there is but little prospect of a school here this winter, and I have made no arrangements for a tutor, I must do something for your education, but that I cannot do until after Christmas. So, as I think you will be learning something of men as well as of books, I have thought it best, after reflecting upon it as well as I can, to let you go.”
“I will promise you, mother, never to do or say anything while I am away from you that I would be ashamed for you to know,” cried George.
Madam Washington smiled at this.
“Your promise is too extensive,” she said. “Promise me only that you will try not to do or say anything that will make me ashamed, and that will be enough.”
George colored, as he answered:
“I dare say I promised too much, and so I will accept the change you make.”
Here a wild howl burst upon the air. Billy, who had been standing behind George’s chair, understood well enough what the conversation meant, and that he was to be separated until after Christmas from his beloved “Marse George.” Madam Washington, who had little patience with such outbreaks of emotion, sharply spoke to him. “Be quiet, Billy!”