We do not claim to rank among the military novelists. Our place is withthe non-combatants. When the decks are cleared for action we go belowand wait meekly. We should only be in the way of the manoeuvres thatthe gallant fellows are performing overhead. We shall go no fartherwith the --th than to the city gate: and leaving Major O'Dowd to hisduty, come back to the Major's wife, and the ladies and the baggage.

Now the Major and his lady, who had not been invited to the ball atwhich in our last chapter other of our friends figured, had much moretime to take their wholesome natural rest in bed, than was accorded topeople who wished to enjoy pleasure as well as to do duty. "It's mybelief, Peggy, my dear," said he, as he placidly pulled his nightcapover his ears, "that there will be such a ball danced in a day or twoas some of 'em has never heard the chune of"; and he was much morehappy to retire to rest after partaking of a quiet tumbler, than tofigure at any other sort of amusement. Peggy, for her part, would haveliked to have shown her turban and bird of paradise at the ball, butfor the information which her husband had given her, and which made hervery grave.

"I'd like ye wake me about half an hour before the assembly beats," theMajor said to his lady. "Call me at half-past one, Peggy dear, and seeme things is ready. May be I'll not come back to breakfast, Mrs. O'D."With which words, which signified his opinion that the regiment wouldmarch the next morning, the Major ceased talking, and fell asleep.

Mrs. O'Dowd, the good housewife, arrayed in curl papers and a camisole,felt that her duty was to act, and not to sleep, at this juncture."Time enough for that," she said, "when Mick's gone"; and so she packedhis travelling valise ready for the march, brushed his cloak, his cap,and other warlike habiliments, set them out in order for him; andstowed away in the cloak pockets a light package of portablerefreshments, and a wicker-covered flask or pocket-pistol, containingnear a pint of a remarkably sound Cognac brandy, of which she and theMajor approved very much; and as soon as the hands of the "repayther"pointed to half-past one, and its interior arrangements (it had a tonequite equal to a cathaydral, its fair owner considered) knelled forththat fatal hour, Mrs. O'Dowd woke up her Major, and had as comfortablea cup of coffee prepared for him as any made that morning in Brussels.And who is there will deny that this worthy lady's preparationsbetokened affection as much as the fits of tears and hysterics by whichmore sensitive females exhibited their love, and that their partakingof this coffee, which they drank together while the bugles weresounding the turn-out and the drums beating in the various quarters ofthe town, was not more useful and to the purpose than the outpouring ofany mere sentiment could be? The consequence was, that the Majorappeared on parade quite trim, fresh, and alert, his well-shaved rosycountenance, as he sate on horseback, giving cheerfulness andconfidence to the whole corps. All the officers saluted her when theregiment marched by the balcony on which this brave woman stood, andwaved them a cheer as they passed; and I daresay it was not from wantof courage, but from a sense of female delicacy and propriety, that sherefrained from leading the gallant--th personally into action.

On Sundays, and at periods of a solemn nature, Mrs. O'Dowd used to readwith great gravity out of a large volume of her uncle the Dean'ssermons. It had been of great comfort to her on board the transport asthey were coming home, and were very nearly wrecked, on their returnfrom the West Indies. After the regiment's departure she betookherself to this volume for meditation; perhaps she did not understandmuch of what she was reading, and her thoughts were elsewhere: but thesleep project, with poor Mick's nightcap there on the pillow, was quitea vain one. So it is in the world. Jack or Donald marches away toglory with his knapsack on his shoulder, stepping out briskly to thetune of "The Girl I Left Behind Me." It is she who remains andsuffers--and has the leisure to think, and brood, and remember.

Knowing how useless regrets are, and how the indulgence of sentimentonly serves to make people more miserable, Mrs. Rebecca wiselydetermined to give way to no vain feelings of sorrow, and bore theparting from her husband with quite a Spartan equanimity. IndeedCaptain Rawdon himself was much more affected at the leave-taking thanthe resolute little woman to whom he bade farewell. She had masteredthis rude coarse nature; and he loved and worshipped her with all hisfaculties of regard and admiration. In all his life he had never beenso happy, as, during the past few months, his wife had made him. Allformer delights of turf, mess, hunting-field, and gambling-table; allprevious loves and courtships of milliners, opera-dancers, and the likeeasy triumphs of the clumsy military Adonis, were quite insipid whencompared to the lawful matrimonial pleasures which of late he hadenjoyed. She had known perpetually how to divert him; and he had foundhis house and her society a thousand times more pleasant than any placeor company which he had ever frequented from his childhood until now.And he cursed his past follies and extravagances, and bemoaned his vastoutlying debts above all, which must remain for ever as obstacles toprevent his wife's advancement in the world. He had often groaned overthese in midnight conversations with Rebecca, although as a bachelorthey had never given him any disquiet. He himself was struck with thisphenomenon. "Hang it," he would say (or perhaps use a still strongerexpression out of his simple vocabulary), "before I was married Ididn't care what bills I put my name to, and so long as Moses wouldwait or Levy would renew for three months, I kept on never minding.But since I'm married, except renewing, of course, I give you my honourI've not touched a bit of stamped paper."

Rebecca always knew how to conjure away these moods of melancholy."Why, my stupid love," she would say, "we have not done with your auntyet. If she fails us, isn't there what you call the Gazette? or, stop,when your uncle Bute's life drops, I have another scheme. The livinghas always belonged to the younger brother, and why shouldn't you sellout and go into the Church?" The idea of this conversion set Rawdoninto roars of laughter: you might have heard the explosion through thehotel at midnight, and the haw-haws of the great dragoon's voice.General Tufto heard him from his quarters on the first floor abovethem; and Rebecca acted the scene with great spirit, and preachedRawdon's first sermon, to the immense delight of the General atbreakfast.

But these were mere by-gone days and talk. When the final news arrivedthat the campaign was opened, and the troops were to march, Rawdon'sgravity became such that Becky rallied him about it in a manner whichrather hurt the feelings of the Guardsman. "You don't suppose I'mafraid, Becky, I should think," he said, with a tremor in his voice."But I'm a pretty good mark for a shot, and you see if it brings medown, why I leave one and perhaps two behind me whom I should wish toprovide for, as I brought 'em into the scrape. It is no laughingmatter that, Mrs. C., anyways."

Rebecca by a hundred caresses and kind words tried to soothe thefeelings of the wounded lover. It was only when her vivacity and senseof humour got the better of this sprightly creature (as they would dounder most circumstances of life indeed) that she would break out withher satire, but she could soon put on a demure face. "Dearest love,"she said, "do you suppose I feel nothing?" and hastily dashingsomething from her eyes, she looked up in her husband's face with asmile.

"Look here," said he. "If I drop, let us see what there is for you. Ihave had a pretty good run of luck here, and here's two hundred andthirty pounds. I have got ten Napoleons in my pocket. That is as muchas I shall want; for the General pays everything like a prince; and ifI'm hit, why you know I cost nothing. Don't cry, little woman; I maylive to vex you yet. Well, I shan't take either of my horses, butshall ride the General's grey charger: it's cheaper, and I told himmine was lame. If I'm done, those two ought to fetch you something.Grigg offered ninety for the mare yesterday, before this confoundednews came, and like a fool I wouldn't let her go under the two o's.Bullfinch will fetch his price any day, only you'd better sell him inthis country, because the dealers have so many bills of mine, and soI'd rather he shouldn't go back to England. Your little mare theGeneral gave you will fetch something, and there's no d--d liverystable bills here as there are in London," Rawdon added, with a laugh."There's that dressing-case cost me two hundred--that is, I owe two forit; and the gold tops and bottles must be worth thirty or forty.Please to put THAT up the spout, ma'am, with my pins, and rings, andwatch and chain, and things. They cost a precious lot of money. MissCrawley, I know, paid a hundred down for the chain and ticker. Goldtops and bottles, indeed! dammy, I'm sorry I didn't take more now.Edwards pressed on me a silver-gilt boot-jack, and I might have had adressing-case fitted up with a silver warming-pan, and a service ofplate. But we must make the best of what we've got, Becky, you know."

And so, making his last dispositions, Captain Crawley, who had seldomthought about anything but himself, until the last few months of hislife, when Love had obtained the mastery over the dragoon, went throughthe various items of his little catalogue of effects, striving to seehow they might be turned into money for his wife's benefit, in case anyaccident should befall him. He pleased himself by noting down with apencil, in his big schoolboy handwriting, the various items of hisportable property which might be sold for his widow's advantage as, forexample, "My double-barril by Manton, say 40 guineas; my driving cloak,lined with sable fur, 50 pounds; my duelling pistols in rosewood case(same which I shot Captain Marker), 20 pounds; my regulationsaddle-holsters and housings; my Laurie ditto," and so forth, over allof which articles he made Rebecca the mistress.

Faithful to his plan of economy, the Captain dressed himself in hisoldest and shabbiest uniform and epaulets, leaving the newest behind,under his wife's (or it might be his widow's) guardianship. And thisfamous dandy of Windsor and Hyde Park went off on his campaign with akit as modest as that of a sergeant, and with something like a prayeron his lips for the woman he was leaving. He took her up from theground, and held her in his arms for a minute, tight pressed againsthis strong-beating heart. His face was purple and his eyes dim, as heput her down and left her. He rode by his General's side, and smokedhis cigar in silence as they hastened after the troops of the General'sbrigade, which preceded them; and it was not until they were some mileson their way that he left off twirling his moustache and broke silence.

And Rebecca, as we have said, wisely determined not to give way tounavailing sentimentality on her husband's departure. She waved him anadieu from the window, and stood there for a moment looking out afterhe was gone. The cathedral towers and the full gables of the quaint oldhouses were just beginning to blush in the sunrise. There had been norest for her that night. She was still in her pretty ball-dress, herfair hair hanging somewhat out of curl on her neck, and the circlesround her eyes dark with watching. "What a fright I seem," she said,examining herself in the glass, "and how pale this pink makes onelook!" So she divested herself of this pink raiment; in doing which anote fell out from her corsage, which she picked up with a smile, andlocked into her dressing-box. And then she put her bouquet of the ballinto a glass of water, and went to bed, and slept very comfortably.

The town was quite quiet when she woke up at ten o'clock, and partookof coffee, very requisite and comforting after the exhaustion and griefof the morning's occurrences.

This meal over, she resumed honest Rawdon's calculations of the nightprevious, and surveyed her position. Should the worst befall, allthings considered, she was pretty well to do. There were her owntrinkets and trousseau, in addition to those which her husband had leftbehind. Rawdon's generosity, when they were first married, has alreadybeen described and lauded. Besides these, and the little mare, theGeneral, her slave and worshipper, had made her many very handsomepresents, in the shape of cashmere shawls bought at the auction of abankrupt French general's lady, and numerous tributes from thejewellers' shops, all of which betokened her admirer's taste andwealth. As for "tickers," as poor Rawdon called watches, herapartments were alive with their clicking. For, happening to mentionone night that hers, which Rawdon had given to her, was of Englishworkmanship, and went ill, on the very next morning there came to her alittle bijou marked Leroy, with a chain and cover charmingly set withturquoises, and another signed Brequet, which was covered with pearls,and yet scarcely bigger than a half-crown. General Tufto had boughtone, and Captain Osborne had gallantly presented the other. Mrs.Osborne had no watch, though, to do George justice, she might have hadone for the asking, and the Honourable Mrs. Tufto in England had an oldinstrument of her mother's that might have served for the plate-warmingpan which Rawdon talked about. If Messrs. Howell and James were topublish a list of the purchasers of all the trinkets which they sell,how surprised would some families be: and if all these ornaments wentto gentlemen's lawful wives and daughters, what a profusion ofjewellery there would be exhibited in the genteelest homes of VanityFair!

Every calculation made of these valuables Mrs. Rebecca found, notwithout a pungent feeling of triumph and self-satisfaction, that shouldcircumstances occur, she might reckon on six or seven hundred pounds atthe very least, to begin the world with; and she passed the morningdisposing, ordering, looking out, and locking up her properties in themost agreeable manner. Among the notes in Rawdon's pocket-book was adraft for twenty pounds on Osborne's banker. This made her think aboutMrs. Osborne. "I will go and get the draft cashed," she said, "and paya visit afterwards to poor little Emmy." If this is a novel without ahero, at least let us lay claim to a heroine. No man in the Britisharmy which has marched away, not the great Duke himself, could be morecool or collected in the presence of doubts and difficulties, than theindomitable little aide-de-camp's wife.

And there was another of our acquaintances who was also to be leftbehind, a non-combatant, and whose emotions and behaviour we havetherefore a right to know. This was our friend the ex-collector ofBoggley Wollah, whose rest was broken, like other people's, by thesounding of the bugles in the early morning. Being a great sleeper,and fond of his bed, it is possible he would have snoozed on until hisusual hour of rising in the forenoon, in spite of all the drums,bugles, and bagpipes in the British army, but for an interruption,which did not come from George Osborne, who shared Jos's quarters withhim, and was as usual occupied too much with his own affairs or withgrief at parting with his wife, to think of taking leave of hisslumbering brother-in-law--it was not George, we say, who interposedbetween Jos Sedley and sleep, but Captain Dobbin, who came and rousedhim up, insisting on shaking hands with him before his departure.

"Very kind of you," said Jos, yawning, and wishing the Captain at thedeuce.

"I--I didn't like to go off without saying good-bye, you know," Dobbinsaid in a very incoherent manner; "because you know some of us mayn'tcome back again, and I like to see you all well, and--and that sort ofthing, you know."

"What do you mean?" Jos asked, rubbing his eyes. The Captain did notin the least hear him or look at the stout gentleman in the nightcap,about whom he professed to have such a tender interest. The hypocritewas looking and listening with all his might in the direction ofGeorge's apartments, striding about the room, upsetting the chairs,beating the tattoo, biting his nails, and showing other signs of greatinward emotion.

Jos had always had rather a mean opinion of the Captain, and now beganto think his courage was somewhat equivocal. "What is it I can do foryou, Dobbin?" he said, in a sarcastic tone.

"I tell you what you can do," the Captain replied, coming up to thebed; "we march in a quarter of an hour, Sedley, and neither George norI may ever come back. Mind you, you are not to stir from this townuntil you ascertain how things go. You are to stay here and watch overyour sister, and comfort her, and see that no harm comes to her. Ifanything happens to George, remember she has no one but you in theworld to look to. If it goes wrong with the army, you'll see her safeback to England; and you will promise me on your word that you willnever desert her. I know you won't: as far as money goes, you werealways free enough with that. Do you want any? I mean, have you enoughgold to take you back to England in case of a misfortune?"

"Sir," said Jos, majestically, "when I want money, I know where to askfor it. And as for my sister, you needn't tell me how I ought tobehave to her."

"You speak like a man of spirit, Jos," the other answered good-naturedly,"and I am glad that George can leave her in such good hands.So I may give him your word of honour, may I, that in case of extremityyou will stand by her?"

"Of course, of course," answered Mr. Jos, whose generosity in moneymatters Dobbin estimated quite correctly.

"And you'll see her safe out of Brussels in the event of a defeat?"

"A defeat! D---- it, sir, it's impossible. Don't try and frighten ME,"the hero cried from his bed; and Dobbin's mind was thus perfectly setat ease now that Jos had spoken out so resolutely respecting hisconduct to his sister. "At least," thought the Captain, "there will bea retreat secured for her in case the worst should ensue."

If Captain Dobbin expected to get any personal comfort and satisfactionfrom having one more view of Amelia before the regiment marched away,his selfishness was punished just as such odious egotism deserved tobe. The door of Jos's bedroom opened into the sitting-room which wascommon to the family party, and opposite this door was that of Amelia'schamber. The bugles had wakened everybody: there was no use inconcealment now. George's servant was packing in this room: Osbornecoming in and out of the contiguous bedroom, flinging to the man sucharticles as he thought fit to carry on the campaign. And presentlyDobbin had the opportunity which his heart coveted, and he got sight ofAmelia's face once more. But what a face it was! So white, so wildand despair-stricken, that the remembrance of it haunted him afterwardslike a crime, and the sight smote him with inexpressible pangs oflonging and pity.

She was wrapped in a white morning dress, her hair falling on hershoulders, and her large eyes fixed and without light. By way ofhelping on the preparations for the departure, and showing that she toocould be useful at a moment so critical, this poor soul had taken up asash of George's from the drawers whereon it lay, and followed him toand fro with the sash in her hand, looking on mutely as his packingproceeded. She came out and stood, leaning at the wall, holding thissash against her bosom, from which the heavy net of crimson droppedlike a large stain of blood. Our gentle-hearted Captain felt a guiltyshock as he looked at her. "Good God," thought he, "and is it grieflike this I dared to pry into?" And there was no help: no means tosoothe and comfort this helpless, speechless misery. He stood for amoment and looked at her, powerless and torn with pity, as a parentregards an infant in pain.

At last, George took Emmy's hand, and led her back into the bedroom,from whence he came out alone. The parting had taken place in thatmoment, and he was gone.

"Thank Heaven that is over," George thought, bounding down the stair,his sword under his arm, as he ran swiftly to the alarm ground, wherethe regiment was mustered, and whither trooped men and officershurrying from their billets; his pulse was throbbing and his cheeksflushed: the great game of war was going to be played, and he one ofthe players. What a fierce excitement of doubt, hope, and pleasure!What tremendous hazards of loss or gain! What were all the games ofchance he had ever played compared to this one? Into all contestsrequiring athletic skill and courage, the young man, from his boyhoodupwards, had flung himself with all his might. The champion of hisschool and his regiment, the bravos of his companions had followed himeverywhere; from the boys' cricket-match to the garrison-races, he hadwon a hundred of triumphs; and wherever he went women and men hadadmired and envied him. What qualities are there for which a man getsso speedy a return of applause, as those of bodily superiority,activity, and valour? Time out of mind strength and courage have beenthe theme of bards and romances; and from the story of Troy down toto-day, poetry has always chosen a soldier for a hero. I wonder is itbecause men are cowards in heart that they admire bravery so much, andplace military valour so far beyond every other quality for reward andworship?

So, at the sound of that stirring call to battle, George jumped awayfrom the gentle arms in which he had been dallying; not without afeeling of shame (although his wife's hold on him had been but feeble),that he should have been detained there so long. The same feeling ofeagerness and excitement was amongst all those friends of his of whomwe have had occasional glimpses, from the stout senior Major, who ledthe regiment into action, to little Stubble, the Ensign, who was tobear its colours on that day.

The sun was just rising as the march began--it was a gallant sight--theband led the column, playing the regimental march--then came theMajor in command, riding upon Pyramus, his stout charger--then marchedthe grenadiers, their Captain at their head; in the centre were thecolours, borne by the senior and junior Ensigns--then George camemarching at the head of his company. He looked up, and smiled atAmelia, and passed on; and even the sound of the music died away.