“You were the aptest scholar I ever had, Mr. Washington,” answered the old soldier; “and as for your temper, I have never seen you anything but mild and gentle since that first day.”
George then went to the library to find the earl. He had meant to say something expressive of gratitude, but all through his life words failed him when his heart was overflowing. Lord Fairfax, too, was silent for a moment; but taking down the smaller of the two swords over the mantel-piece he handed it to George.
“This sword,” he said, “I wore in the service of the Great Duke. I give it to you as being worthy to wear it, and I charge you never to draw it in an unworthy cause.”
“I promise you, my lord,” was all that George could say in reply; but Lord Fairfax, who was a good judge of men, knew all that was passing in the boy’s heart. The two wrung each other’s hands, and George, going out, mounted his horse and rode off, with Billy trotting behind on the mule, and Rattler running at his heels.
For the first few miles George felt the keen regret which every sensitive young soul must feel at leaving a place and persons dearly loved. At the point on the mountain-side where, on his way to Greenway, the earl had stopped and showed him his first view of the house, George stopped again, and looked long and sadly. But once turned from it, and out of sight of it, his mind recovered its spring. He remembered that he was on the way to Mount Vernon, and would soon be with his brother Laurence and his sister-in-law, whom he dearly loved. Then there was little Mildred, a baby girl when he had been at Mount Vernon a year before. He wondered how big she was then. And Betty would be there, and he would hear from his mother, and see her soon after Christmas. On the whole, what with these pleasant prospects, and fine, clear December weather, and a good horse to ride, George began to whistle cheerfully, and presently called back to Billy:
“How do you like the notion of Christmas at Mount Vernon, Billy?”
“I likes it mightily, suh,” replied Billy, very promptly. “Dee ain’ no Injuns at Mount Vernon, an’ dee black folks git jes as good wittles in de kitchen as de white folks gits—tuckey, an’ graby, an’ all de pudden dat’s lef’ over, an’ plenty o’ ’lasses, an’ heap o’ u’rr things.”
George travelled much faster than the lumbering coach in which he had made the best part of his first journey, and he had continuous good weather. On the fourth day, in the afternoon, he shouted delightedly to Billy:
“There is the blue water, Billy!” and pointed to a silver line that glittered in the wintry sun. It was the Potomac, and a few miles’ riding brought them to Mount Vernon.
As George rode up to the broad front porch a girlish figure flew out of the door, and Betty clasped him in her arms. He knew he had always loved Betty, but until then he did not fully realize how dear his only sister was to him. Then there was his brother Laurence, a handsome, military-looking man, but pale and slight in comparison with George, who was a young Hercules in development; and his sister-in-law, a pretty young woman of whom he was fond and proud. And toddling about was little Mildred, whom Betty had taught to say “Uncle George,” in anticipation of his arrival. All were delighted to see him, and his brother Laurence, telling him that Admiral Vernon, his old friend, for whom he had changed the name of the plantation to Mount Vernon from Hunting Creek, was visiting him, was for presenting him then and there to the admiral. But Betty interposed.