A Virginia cavalier

by Molly Elliot Seawell

Betty, who was by nature a little mother, was never more at home than when she had charge of the child, and could take as good care of her as any grown person. George, on the contrary, although his heart went out to the little girl, regarded her as a piece of china that might be broken by touching her. But Mildred took a violent fancy to him, and was never so happy as when carried about in his strong young arms, or sitting on his knee while he made rabbits out of his handkerchief and pictures out of the shadows on the wall, and was ready to do anything and to give her anything that would amuse her. He had never been thrown with a child of that age before, and regarded every instance of her baby cleverness as the most extraordinary thing in the world, to the amusement of his brother and sister.

The year before George had found William Fairfax a delightful boyish companion, but this year, with his new experiences, and the company of the young officers on the Bellona, George unconsciously neglected him. But William, who had a sweet and forgiving nature, showed no ill-humor over it, and said to himself: “Never mind; when the ship goes away, and all the visitors, George will again find me good company.”

And such was the case. On the morning that the Bellona loosed her top-sail, as a sign that she was about to trip her anchor, George felt utterly forlorn. He wondered how he should get through the time until he could go to Ferry Farm and, securing his mother’s consent, join the ship before she sailed from the Chesapeake. So eager was he that Laurence, in the goodness of his heart, had ordered, at his own expense, George’s uniforms to be made in Alexandria, and he was given his side-arms from the stores on board the Bellona. George in fancy already saw himself Midshipman Washington. Admiral Vernon, on parting, had said some kind words to him which sank deep in his heart. “I shall look forward with pleasure to your joining, Mr. Washington,” he said. “It is just such youngsters as you that we want in the navy.” George thanked him with shining eyes.

On a bleak January day the Bellona went out. George watched from the shore as long as he could see her, and sighed as he turned back to the house. On his way back he was joined by William Fairfax.

“George,” said William, diffidently, “I am afraid we are not as good friends as we were last year.”

“Why?” asked George, in surprise. He had almost forgotten William’s existence in the last few busy and exciting days, and he had felt so immeasurably older than he that companionship seemed out of the question.

“Because,” said William, “you do not seem to care for my company any longer.”

George stopped, and his heart and his conscience smote him. William was his sister’s cousin and his brother’s guest, and he had been neglected by both George and Betty; for Betty had grown about ten years, in her own estimation, since dancing with officers and being allowed to come to the first table. George thought this rather ridiculous of Betty; but was it not equally ridiculous of him to lord it over William, as if there were twenty years between them, instead of William being actually older than he?

“I see how it is, William,” said George, after a pause. “I dare say I have often made a fool of myself in this last week, talking to men as if I were their equal, and to boys of my own age as if I were a man. But, although you may laugh at me, I do feel a great deal older in the last two months—I suppose because I have been with men like Lord Fairfax and Lance, and then Admiral Vernon and his officers. But if you will be friends again with me I will promise not to treat you as I have done, and I acknowledge it was not very gentlemanly of me.”

William was of too gentle a nature to resist this, and the two boys in five minutes were as good friends as ever. George recalled how silently William had borne neglect, how ready he had been to be friends again, and he wondered if he himself had so much generosity.