Very splendid was the ball at the palace that night, and very splendid to George’s provincial eyes were the assemblies in the great Apollo Room at the Raleigh, where the wits and beaux and belles of the colonial court assembled. Sir John Peyton was not the only dandy to be met with there, although by far the most entertaining. There were many handsome and imposing matrons, but George saw none that his mother could not outshine in dignity and grace; and many beautiful girls, but none more charming than Betty. As communication with his home was easy and frequent, he could write long, descriptive letters to Ferry Farm as well as to Mount Vernon. Betty became so infatuated with George’s accounts of the fine people and gay doings at Williamsburg that she wrote George: “I wish, dear George, you would not write me any more about the routs and assemblies at Williamsburg, for your poor sister’s head is so full of junkets and capers and the like that she attends to her duties very ill, and drops stitches in her knitting, which brings her many reproofs, and plays nothing but jigs on the harpsichord, instead of those noble compositions of Mr. Handel, of which our mother is so fond.”
George laughed when he read this. He knew, no matter how much Betty’s little head might be filled with gayeties, she never forgot to do her whole duty, and had always time for a kind act or an affectionate word to others. But there were more than balls and routs and governor’s levees in this visit. George had the opportunity of knowing men prominent in colonial matters—statesmen, scholars, lawyers, men of affairs—and Lord Fairfax, ever on the alert for his favorite’s advancement, lost no chance of bringing him to the attention of those in power.
Among the persons they met were many officers of the governor’s suite, as well as those attached to the ships at Yorktown. George’s passion for a military life had never died, or even languished; but by the exertion of a powerful will he had kept it in abeyance until the times were ripe. Already were Governor Dinwiddie and his council preparing a scheme of defence for the frontier, and Lord Fairfax, with other leading men in the colony, were invited to meet the governor and council to discuss these affairs. After attending one of these meetings the earl, on coming back to his lodgings, said:
“George, after our conference broke up I talked with the governor concerning you and your future, and he promised me, if the plan is carried out of dividing the colony into districts with an inspector-general with the rank of major for each, that you shall have a commission—that is, if you have not given up your wish for a military life.”
As Lord Fairfax spoke a deep red dyed George’s face.
“Thank you, sir,” he said. “I never have given up, I never can give up, my wish for a military life; and although I did not accept the warrant I was given in the navy, it almost broke my heart. But fighting for my country is another thing; and if the governor calls on me for my services it would certainly be my duty to respond—and I will.”
After four delightful weeks in Williamsburg they returned to Mount Vernon; and George, following his plan for two years past, divided his time between Mount Vernon and Ferry Farm until April, when he again started for Greenway Court, where Lord Fairfax had preceded him. Again he started for the frontier with Gist and Davidson, and again he repeated the experiences of the former year almost without the slightest variation. But on his return in September to Greenway Court a melancholy letter from Laurence Washington awaited him. The doctors had declared a sea-voyage the only thing that would restore Laurence’s health; and passage for Barbadoes had been engaged in the Sprightly Jane, a commodious merchantman, sailing between Alexandria and the West Indies. Laurence wrote, saying that George must accompany him, otherwise he would not go, to suffer and die, perhaps, among strangers.
Two hours after receiving this letter George was on his way to Mount Vernon. The earl, ever kind, assured him that Gist and Davidson, both highly intelligent men, could give him all the information necessary, together with George’s papers, and, furnished with the best horse in the stables at Greenway Court, George set out with a heavy heart. He travelled night and day, and reached Mount Vernon a week before the very earliest that he was expected. His brother’s pale and emaciated countenance, his sister’s anxiety, cut George to the heart. All the preparations for sailing were made, and the Sprightly Jane only waited a fair wind to trip her anchor. George took time to spend one day at Ferry Farm. Madam Washington was a woman of great fortitude except in one particular—she trembled at the idea of danger to this best-beloved son; but she made no objection to the voyage, which she saw that George considered not only his duty but his pleasure to make to oblige the best of brothers. But Betty had fortitude even in parting with him. As George rode back through the night to Mount Vernon he could not recall a single instance in connection with himself that Betty had ever once considered herself or her love for him or the solace of his society; always, her first and only thought was for his credit.
“Dear Betty,” thought George, as his horse took the road steadily through the darkness, “I believe you would inspire the veriest poltroon that walks with courage to do his duty.”
And Betty was so very pretty and winning and coquettish, and had troops of young gentlemen to admire her, at whom George scowled darkly and thought Betty entirely too young for such things. But Betty thought differently, and rated George soundly for his overbearing ways in that respect. For she was not the least afraid of him, and could talk him down with the greatest spirit and emphasis at any time, George being a little in awe of Betty’s nimble tongue.