y, however, since the soldier was
impatient to get to Williamsburg.

Once inside the colonial house, whose hospitable halls breathed
welcome, his impatience, and the errand itself, were almost forgotten.
A negro servant led his horse up and down the gravelled walk in front
of the house; the servant grew tired, the horse pawed and sniffed with
impatience, but Washington lingered.

A petite hazel-eyed woman--she who was once Patsy Dandridge, but then
the widow of Daniel Parke Custis--was delaying important affairs. At
night-fall the distracted warrior remembered his mission, and made a
hasty adieu. Mr. Chamberlayne, meeting him at the door, laid a
restraining hand upon his arm. "No guest ever leaves my house after
sunset," he said.

The horse was put up, the servant released from duty, and Washington
remained until the next morning, when, with new happiness in his
heart, he dashed on to Williamsburg.

We may well fancy that her image was before him all the way. She had
worn a gown of white dimity, with a cluster of Mayblossoms at her
belt, and a little white widow's cap half covered her soft brown hair.

She was twenty-six, some three months younger than Washington; she
had wealth, and two children. Mr. Custis had been older than his
Patsy, for she was married when she was but seventeen. He had been a
faithful and affectionate husband, but he had not appealed to her
imagination, and it was doubtless through her imagination, that the
big Virginia Colonel won her heart.

She left Mr. Chamberlayne's and went to her home--the "White
House"--near William's Ferry. The story is that when Washington came
from Williamsburg, he was met at the ferry by one of Mrs. Custis's
slaves. "Is your mistress at home?" he inquired of the negro who was
rowing him across the river.

"Yes, sah," replied the darkey, then added slyly, "I recon you am de
man what am expected."

It was late in the afternoon of the next day when Washington took his
departure, but he had her promise and was happy. A ring was ordered
from Philadelphia, and is duly set down in his accounts: "One
engagement ring, two pounds, sixteen shillings."

Then came weary months of service in the field, and they saw each
other only four times before they were married. There were doubtless
frequent letters, but only one of them remains. It is the letter of a
soldier:

"We have begun our march for the Ohio, [he wrote]. A courier
is starting for Williamsburg, an