When at length the two met he could feel no surprise at Ivor's intense and reverent love for his chief. The soldierly bearing of Moore, his grace of manner, the power of his unique personality, together with his chivalrous devotion to his mother and his courteous kindness towards all with whom he came in contact--these things from the first made a profound impression upon Jack; and the more he learnt to know of Moore, the more that impression was deepened. He counted himself thenceforward ready to live or to die for the General; and one day in a fit of confidence he said so to Polly. "Nay, Jack; live for him; do not wish to die for him," pleaded Polly. "That will be the best." Jack was not so sure. His imagination had been fired long before by the story, told to him by Ivor, of a certain heroic Guardsman--a man who, in the West Indies, had flung himself between Moore and the musket aimed at him, thus giving his life for that of his officer. But it was not needful for Jack to explain how much he longed to do the same. He merely smiled, and remarked, "In all England there is no other his equal. Of that I am convinced." To the great disappointment of Jack, the General had been quickly summoned away on important duty; and intercourse between them came for the moment to a close. The young subaltern, however, found it possible to pursue acquaintance with the General's mother and sister; and gentle old Mrs. Moore had a great deal to say about this most idolised son of hers, where she found a sympathetic listener. Few listeners could have been more sympathetic than Jack Keene, who never grew tired of the subject. Mrs. Moore had other sons beside the General, but it was noticed that when she referred to him he was always distinctively, "My son!" not "My eldest son," or "My son John!" This did not touch the close friendship between Moore and his brothers, one of whom was a Naval officer of note. Through those summer weeks of 1803 Polly was longing for Captain Ivor to come home. It was sad to think of him as a prisoner, forced to stay against his will in a foreign land. She knew, too, that any day Jack might be ordered off elsewhere; and one day, as she had feared, he rushed in, to tell them that he would be leaving immediately for Shornecliffe Camp, there to await Napoleon's first attempt to land on English soil. The news was less a matter of congratulation for them than for Jack himself. At Sandgate he would be in the very forefront of the peril which threatened the land. Mrs. Fairbank had to rub her large horn spectacles more than once; and she was disposed to blame Jack for not referring the question to herself, before he accepted the offer of an exchange. Molly looked curiously at Jack, and asked-- "Are you glad to say good-bye to us all?" "Not glad to say good-bye, but glad to be going. People must say good-bye sometimes, Molly. And I shall be fighting under one of the best and bravest men that ever lived. Would not you like that?"