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The Virginians
by
Madame Esmond made her boys bearers of the letter in reply to his Excellency’s message, accompanying her note with handsome presents for the General’s staff and officers, which they were delighted to accept.
“Would not one of the young gentlemen like to see the campaign?” the General asked. “A friend of theirs, who often spoke of them–Mr. Washington, who had been unlucky in the affair of last year–had already promised to join him as aide-de-camp, and his Excellency would gladly take another young Virginian gentleman into his family.”
Harry’s eyes brightened and his face flushed at this offer. He would like with all his heart to go, he cried out. George said, looking hard at his younger brother, that one of them would be proud to attend his Excellency, whilst it would be the other’s duty to take care of their mother at home. Harry allowed his senior to speak. However much he desired to go, he would not pronounce until George had declared himself. He longed so for the campaign that the actual wish made him timid. He dared not speak on the matter as he went home with George. They rode for miles in silence, or strove to talk upon indifferent subjects, each knowing what was passing in the other’s mind, and afraid to bring the awful question to an issue.
On their arrival at home the boys told their mother of General Braddock’s offer.
“I know it must happen,” she said; “at such a crisis in the country our family must come forward. Have you–have you settled yet which of you is to leave me?” and she looked anxiously from one to another, dreading to hear either name.
“The youngest ought to go, mother; of course I ought to go!” cries Harry, turning very red.
“Of course, he ought,” said Mrs. Mountain, who was present at their talk.
“The head of the family ought to go, mother,” says George, adding: “You would make the best soldier, I know that, dearest Hal. You and George Washington are great friends, and could travel well together, and he does not care for me, nor I for him, however much he is admired in the family. But, you see, ’tis the law of honour, my Harry. I must go. Had fate given you the benefit of that extra half hour of life which I have had before you, it would have been your lot, and you would have claimed your right to go first, you know you would.”
“Yes, George,” said poor Harry; “I own I should.”
“You will stay at home, and take care of Castlewood and our mother. If anything happens to me, you are here to fill my place. I should like to give way, my dear, as you, I know, would lay down your life to serve me. But each of us must do his duty. What would our grandfather say if he were here?”
The mother looked proudly at her two sons. “My papa would say that his boys were gentlemen,” faltered Madame Esmond, and left the young men, not choosing perhaps to show the emotion which was filling her heart. It was speedily known amongst the servants that Mr. George was going on the campaign. Dinah, George’s foster-mother, was loud in her lamentations at losing him; Phillis, Harry’s old nurse, was as noisy, because Master George, as usual, was preferred over Master Harry. Sady, George’s servant, made preparations to follow his master, bragging incessantly of the deeds which he would do; while Gumbo, Harry’s boy, pretended to whimper at being left behind, though at home Gumbo was anything but a fire-eater.
But of all in the house Mrs. Mountain was the most angry at George’s determination to go on the campaign. She begged, implored, insisted that he should alter his determination; voted that nothing but mischief would come from his departure; and finally suggested that it was his duty to remain at home to protect his mother from the advances of Colonel Washington, whom she assured him she believed to desire a rich wife, and that if George would go away he would come back to find George Washington master of Castlewood. As a proof of what she said she produced part of a letter written by Colonel Washington to his brother, in which his words seemed to the romantic Mrs. Mountain to bear out her belief. This fragment, which she had found in the Colonel’s room and with none too much honesty appropriated, she now showed to George, who after gazing at the document gave her a frightful look, saying, “I–I will return this paper to Mr. Washington.” Mrs. Mountain was thoroughly scared then at what she had done and said, but it could not be taken back, so she was obliged to adjust herself to taking in good part whatever consequences might come of her dishonest act.