no time to spare, and the General was glad of it; for oh, these last
moments! Youth may prolong them, but age has lost youth's rebound, and
willingly escapes their disintegrating emotion. Before either realized
the fact, the General had crossed the narrow plank; it was quickly
withdrawn; the anchor was lifted to the chanty of "Homeward bound boys,"
and the North Star, with wind and tide in her favour, was facing the
great separating ocean.

George turned from the ship in a maze. He felt as if his life had been
cut sharply asunder; at any rate, its continuity was broken, and what
other changes this change might bring it was impossible to foresee. In
any extremity, however, there is generally some duty to do; and the
doing of that duty is the first right step onward. Without reasoning on
the matter, George followed this plan. He had a letter to deliver to his
mother; it was right that it should be delivered as soon as possible;
and indeed he felt as if her voice and presence would be the best of all
comfort at that hour; so late as it was, he rode out to Hyde Manor. His
mother, with a lighted candle in her hand, opened the door for him.

"I thought it was thy father, Joris," she said; "but what? Is there
anything wrong? Why art thou alone?"

"There is nothing wrong, dear mother. Come, I will tell you what has
happened."

Then she locked the door carefully, and followed her son into the small
parlour, where she had been sitting. He gave her his father's letter,
and assumed for her sake, the air of one who has brought good tidings.
She silently read, and folded it; and George said, "It was the most
fortunate thing, the North Star being ready for sea. Father could hardly