to her favourite, Colonel Washington, as
to all the other guests of the house.

Before Mr. Braddock took his leave, he had a private audience of Madam
Esmond, in which his Excellency formally offered to take her son into
his family; and when the arrangements for George's departure were
settled between his mother and future chief, Madam Esmond, though she
might feel them, did not show any squeamish terrors about the dangers
of the bottle, which she saw were amongst the severest and most certain
which her son would have to face. She knew her boy must take his part in
the world, and encounter his portion of evil and good. "Mr. Braddock
is a perfect fine gentleman in the morning," she said stoutly to her
aide-de-camp, Mrs. Mountain; "and though my papa did not drink, 'tis
certain that many of the best company in England do." The jolly General
good-naturedly shook hands with George, who presented himself to his
Excellency after the maternal interview was over, and bade George
welcome, and to be in attendance at Frederick three days hence; shortly
after which time the expedition would set forth.

And now the great coach was again called into requisition, the General's
escort pranced round it, the other guests and their servants went to
horse. The lady of Castlewood attended his Excellency to the steps of
the verandah in front of her house, the young gentlemen followed, and
stood on each side of his coach-door. The guard trumpeter blew a shrill
blast, the negroes shouted "Huzzay, and God sabe de King," as Mr.
Braddock most graciously took leave of his hospitable entertainers, and
rolled away on his road to headquarters.

As the boys went up the steps, there was the Colonel once more taking
leave of their mother. No doubt she had been once more recommending
George to his namesake's care; for Colonel Washington said: "With my
life. You may depend on me," as the lads returned to their mother and
the few guests still remaining in the porch. The Colonel was booted and
ready to depart. "Farewell, my dear Harry," he said. "With you, George,
'tis no adieu. We shall meet in three days at the camp."

Both the young men were going to danger, perhaps to death. Colonel
Washington was taking leave of her, and she was to see him no more
before the campaign. No wonder the widow was very much moved.

George Warrington watched his mother's emotion, and interpreted it with
a pang of malignant scorn. "Stay yet a moment, and console our mamma,