His powerful constitution triumphed over it, and in three weeks he was well. But never, in all his life, did he forget the sufferings of those dreadful weeks. Utterly unused to illness, he endured agonies of restlessness, and was like a caged lion in his wrath and furious impatience. The old Barbadian, who had nursed many small-pox patients, made him laugh, while in one of his worst moods, by saying, gravely: “Barbadian nuss small-pox folks forty year. Ain’t neber see no patient so bad like Massa Washington.” A fear haunted him that sometimes made him smile grimly, but, nevertheless, gave him some anxious moments. The idea of being horribly disfigured for life was bitter to him. He saw no one but the old Barbadian, and felt afraid to ask him; and as he said nothing about the marks of the disease, there was room to suspect they were bad. George had been able to sit up several days before he dared look in the glass. At last one day, nerving himself, he walked steadily to the mirror and looked at himself, expecting to see a vision of horror. To his amazement and deep relief there was not a single permanent mark. His skin was red, his eyes were hollow and sunken, and he was not by any means the handsome young man who had landed on the island four weeks before, but he was unmarked. He felt a deep thankfulness in his heart when he was thoroughly recovered, though he was distressed to find that his brother grew daily weaker. Christmas amid waving palmettos and under a tropical sky was dreary to the two brothers, and soon after it became plain that the climate was doing Laurence no good. One night, calling George to him, he said: “George, I have determined to leave this island, and, with Peter, go to Bermuda. But I am homesick and heartsick for those I love, therefore I have determined to send you back to the colony for your sister Anne, to bring her to me. If I am compelled to be an exile, I will, at least, have the comfort of her society, and I do not think it right, at your age, to keep you forever tied to a sick man’s chair.” George answered, with tears in his eyes: “Whatever you wish, brother, shall be done.” It was found that a vessel was sailing for the Potomac in January, and on her, with a heart heavier than when he came, George embarked the same day that his brother sailed for Bermuda. Storms, instead of calms, delayed this return voyage, and it was late in February before George reached Mount Vernon. He tried to make the best of Laurence’s condition in describing it to his sister, but Mrs. Washington, with a sad smile, stopped him. “I know all that your kind heart, George, would make you say; but I know, also, that my husband is very, very ill, and when I go to him now it will be never to leave him again.”