friend the Colonel took
him fairly to his arms, and held him to his heart; and his voice faltered
as he said, "Thank God, thank God for this!"

"Oh, George," said Harry, who felt now he loved his friend with all his
heart, "how I wish I was going with you on the campaign!" The other
pressed both the boy's hands in a grasp of friendship, which, each knew,
never would slacken.

Then the Colonel advanced, gravely holding out his hand to Harry's elder
brother. But, though hands were joined, the salutation was only formal
and stern on both sides.

"I find I have done you a wrong, Colonel Washington," George said, "and
must apologise, not for the error, but for much of my late behaviour,
which has resulted from it."

"The error was mine! It was I who found that paper in your room and
showed it to George, and was jealous of you, Colonel. All women are
jealous," cried Mrs. Mountain.

"'Tis a pity you could not have kept your eyes off my paper, Madame,"
said Mr. Washington. "You will permit me to say so. A great deal of
mischief has come because I chose to keep a secret which concerned only
myself and another person. For a long time George Warrington's heart has
been black with anger against me, and my feeling towards him has, I own,
scarce been more friendly. All this pain might have been spared to both
of us had my private papers only been read by those for whom they were
written. I shall say no more now, lest my feelings again should betray me
into hasty words. Heaven bless thee, Harry! Farewell, George! And take a
true friend's advice, and try to be less ready to think evil of your
friends. We shall meet again at the camp, and will keep our weapons for
the enemy. Gentlemen! if you remember this scene tomorrow, you will know
where to find me." And with a very stately bow to the English officers,
the Colonel left the abashed company, and speedily rode away.

We must fancy that the parting between the brothers is over, that George
has taken his place in Mr. Braddock's family, and Harry has returned home
to Castlewood and his duty. His heart is with the army, and his pursuits
at home offer the boy no pleasure. He does not care to own how deep his
disappointment is, at being obliged to stay under the homely, quiet roof,
now more melancholy than ever since George is away. Harry passes his
brother's empty chamber with an averted face; takes George's place at the
head of the table, and sighs as he drinks from his silver tankar