“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.”