The news of the disaster had preceded them, and when George, attended only by Captain Vanbraam and a few of his Virginia officers, rode into Williamsburg on an August evening, it was with the heaviest heart he had ever carried in his bosom. But by one of those strange paradoxes, ever existing in the careers of men of destiny, the events that had brought ruin to others only served to exalt him personally. His gallant conduct in battle, his miraculous escape, his bringing off of the survivors, especially among the Virginia troops, and the knowledge which had come about that had his advice been heeded the terrible disaster would not have taken place--all conspired to make him still more of a popular hero. Not only his own men adored him, and pointed out that he had saved all that could be saved on that dreadful day, but the British troops as well saw that the glory was his, and the return march was one long ovation to the one officer who came out of the fight with a greater reputation than when he entered it. Everywhere crowds met him with acclamations and with tears. The streets of the quaint little town of Williamsburg were filled with people on this summer evening, who followed the party of officers, with George at their head, to the palace. George responded to the shouts for him by bowing gracefully from side to side. Arrived at the palace he dismounted, and, just as the sentry at the main door presented arms to him, he saw a party coming out, and they were the persons he most desired to see in the world and least expected. First came the Earl of Fairfax with Madam Washington, whom he was about to hand down the steps and into his coach, which had not yet driven up. Behind them demurely walked Betty, and behind Betty came Lance, carrying the mantles of the two ladies. The earl and Madam Washington, engaged in earnest conversation, did not catch sight of George until Betty had rushed forward, and crying out in rapture, “George, dear George!” they saw the brother and sister clasped in each other’s arms. Madam Washington stood quite still, dumfounded with joy, until George, kissing her hand tenderly, made her realize that it was indeed he, her best beloved, saved from almost universal destruction and standing before her. She, the calmest, the stateliest of women, trembled, and had to lean upon him for support; the earl grasped his hand; Lance was in waiting. George was as overcome with joy as they were. “But I must ask at once to see the governor,” said he, after the first rapture of meeting was over. “You, my lord, must go with me, for I want friends near me when I tell the story of sorrow and disaster.” * * * * *