We of peaceful London City have never beheld--and please God nevershall witness--such a scene of hurry and alarm, as that which Brusselspresented. Crowds rushed to the Namur gate, from which direction thenoise proceeded, and many rode along the level chaussee, to be inadvance of any intelligence from the army. Each man asked hisneighbour for news; and even great English lords and ladiescondescended to speak to persons whom they did not know. The friendsof the French went abroad, wild with excitement, and prophesying thetriumph of their Emperor. The merchants closed their shops, and cameout to swell the general chorus of alarm and clamour. Women rushed tothe churches, and crowded the chapels, and knelt and prayed on theflags and steps. The dull sound of the cannon went on rolling,rolling. Presently carriages with travellers began to leave the town,galloping away by the Ghent barrier. The prophecies of the Frenchpartisans began to pass for facts. "He has cut the armies in two," itwas said. "He is marching straight on Brussels. He will overpower theEnglish, and be here to-night." "He will overpower the English,"shrieked Isidor to his master, "and will be here to-night." The manbounded in and out from the lodgings to the street, always returningwith some fresh particulars of disaster. Jos's face grew paler andpaler. Alarm began to take entire possession of the stout civilian.All the champagne he drank brought no courage to him. Before sunset hewas worked up to such a pitch of nervousness as gratified his friendIsidor to behold, who now counted surely upon the spoils of the ownerof the laced coat.

The women were away all this time. After hearing the firing for amoment, the stout Major's wife bethought her of her friend in the nextchamber, and ran in to watch, and if possible to console, Amelia. Theidea that she had that helpless and gentle creature to protect, gaveadditional strength to the natural courage of the honest Irishwoman.She passed five hours by her friend's side, sometimes in remonstrance,sometimes talking cheerfully, oftener in silence and terrified mentalsupplication. "I never let go her hand once," said the stout ladyafterwards, "until after sunset, when the firing was over." Pauline,the bonne, was on her knees at church hard by, praying for son homme aelle.

When the noise of the cannonading was over, Mrs. O'Dowd issued out ofAmelia's room into the parlour adjoining, where Jos sate with twoemptied flasks, and courage entirely gone. Once or twice he hadventured into his sister's bedroom, looking very much alarmed, and asif he would say something. But the Major's wife kept her place, and hewent away without disburthening himself of his speech. He was ashamedto tell her that he wanted to fly.

But when she made her appearance in the dining-room, where he sate inthe twilight in the cheerless company of his empty champagne bottles,he began to open his mind to her.

"Mrs. O'Dowd," he said, "hadn't you better get Amelia ready?"

"Are you going to take her out for a walk?" said the Major's lady;"sure she's too weak to stir."

"I--I've ordered the carriage," he said, "and--and post-horses; Isidoris gone for them," Jos continued.

"What do you want with driving to-night?" answered the lady. "Isn'tshe better on her bed? I've just got her to lie down."

"Get her up," said Jos; "she must get up, I say": and he stamped hisfoot energetically. "I say the horses are ordered--yes, the horses areordered. It's all over, and--"

"And what?" asked Mrs. O'Dowd.

"I'm off for Ghent," Jos answered. "Everybody is going; there's aplace for you! We shall start in half-an-hour."

The Major's wife looked at him with infinite scorn. "I don't move tillO'Dowd gives me the route," said she. "You may go if you like, Mr.Sedley; but, faith, Amelia and I stop here."

"She SHALL go," said Jos, with another stamp of his foot. Mrs. O'Dowdput herself with arms akimbo before the bedroom door.

"Is it her mother you're going to take her to?" she said; "or do youwant to go to Mamma yourself, Mr. Sedley? Good marning--a pleasantjourney to ye, sir. Bon voyage, as they say, and take my counsel, andshave off them mustachios, or they'll bring you into mischief."

"D--n!" yelled out Jos, wild with fear, rage, and mortification; andIsidor came in at this juncture, swearing in his turn. "Pas dechevaux, sacre bleu!" hissed out the furious domestic. All the horseswere gone. Jos was not the only man in Brussels seized with panic thatday.

But Jos's fears, great and cruel as they were already, were destined toincrease to an almost frantic pitch before the night was over. It hasbeen mentioned how Pauline, the bonne, had son homme a elle also in theranks of the army that had gone out to meet the Emperor Napoleon. Thislover was a native of Brussels, and a Belgian hussar. The troops ofhis nation signalised themselves in this war for anything but courage,and young Van Cutsum, Pauline's admirer, was too good a soldier todisobey his Colonel's orders to run away. Whilst in garrison atBrussels young Regulus (he had been born in the revolutionary times)found his great comfort, and passed almost all his leisure moments, inPauline's kitchen; and it was with pockets and holsters crammed full ofgood things from her larder, that he had take leave of his weepingsweetheart, to proceed upon the campaign a few days before.

As far as his regiment was concerned, this campaign was over now. Theyhad formed a part of the division under the command of his Sovereignapparent, the Prince of Orange, and as respected length of swords andmustachios, and the richness of uniform and equipments, Regulus and hiscomrades looked to be as gallant a body of men as ever trumpet soundedfor.

When Ney dashed upon the advance of the allied troops, carrying oneposition after the other, until the arrival of the great body of theBritish army from Brussels changed the aspect of the combat of QuatreBras, the squadrons among which Regulus rode showed the greatestactivity in retreating before the French, and were dislodged from onepost and another which they occupied with perfect alacrity on theirpart. Their movements were only checked by the advance of the Britishin their rear. Thus forced to halt, the enemy's cavalry (whosebloodthirsty obstinacy cannot be too severely reprehended) had atlength an opportunity of coming to close quarters with the braveBelgians before them; who preferred to encounter the British ratherthan the French, and at once turning tail rode through the Englishregiments that were behind them, and scattered in all directions. Theregiment in fact did not exist any more. It was nowhere. It had nohead-quarters. Regulus found himself galloping many miles from thefield of action, entirely alone; and whither should he fly for refugeso naturally as to that kitchen and those faithful arms in whichPauline had so often welcomed him?

At some ten o'clock the clinking of a sabre might have been heard upthe stair of the house where the Osbornes occupied a story in thecontinental fashion. A knock might have been heard at the kitchendoor; and poor Pauline, come back from church, fainted almost withterror as she opened it and saw before her her haggard hussar. Helooked as pale as the midnight dragoon who came to disturb Leonora.Pauline would have screamed, but that her cry would have called hermasters, and discovered her friend. She stifled her scream, then, andleading her hero into the kitchen, gave him beer, and the choice bitsfrom the dinner, which Jos had not had the heart to taste. The hussarshowed he was no ghost by the prodigious quantity of flesh and beerwhich he devoured--and during the mouthfuls he told his tale ofdisaster.

His regiment had performed prodigies of courage, and had withstood fora while the onset of the whole French army. But they were overwhelmedat last, as was the whole British army by this time. Ney destroyed eachregiment as it came up. The Belgians in vain interposed to prevent thebutchery of the English. The Brunswickers were routed and hadfled--their Duke was killed. It was a general debacle. He sought todrown his sorrow for the defeat in floods of beer.

Isidor, who had come into the kitchen, heard the conversation andrushed out to inform his master. "It is all over," he shrieked to Jos."Milor Duke is a prisoner; the Duke of Brunswick is killed; the Britisharmy is in full flight; there is only one man escaped, and he is in thekitchen now--come and hear him." So Jos tottered into that apartmentwhere Regulus still sate on the kitchen table, and clung fast to hisflagon of beer. In the best French which he could muster, and whichwas in sooth of a very ungrammatical sort, Jos besought the hussar totell his tale. The disasters deepened as Regulus spoke. He was theonly man of his regiment not slain on the field. He had seen the Dukeof Brunswick fall, the black hussars fly, the Ecossais pounded down bythe cannon. "And the --th?" gasped Jos.

"Cut in pieces," said the hussar--upon which Pauline cried out, "O mymistress, ma bonne petite dame," went off fairly into hysterics, andfilled the house with her screams.

Wild with terror, Mr. Sedley knew not how or where to seek for safety.He rushed from the kitchen back to the sitting-room, and cast anappealing look at Amelia's door, which Mrs. O'Dowd had closed andlocked in his face; but he remembered how scornfully the latter hadreceived him, and after pausing and listening for a brief space at thedoor, he left it, and resolved to go into the street, for the firsttime that day. So, seizing a candle, he looked about for hisgold-laced cap, and found it lying in its usual place, on aconsole-table, in the anteroom, placed before a mirror at which Josused to coquet, always giving his side-locks a twirl, and his cap theproper cock over his eye, before he went forth to make appearance inpublic. Such is the force of habit, that even in the midst of histerror he began mechanically to twiddle with his hair, and arrange thecock of his hat. Then he looked amazed at the pale face in the glassbefore him, and especially at his mustachios, which had attained a richgrowth in the course of near seven weeks, since they had come into theworld. They WILL mistake me for a military man, thought he,remembering Isidor's warning as to the massacre with which all thedefeated British army was threatened; and staggering back to hisbedchamber, he began wildly pulling the bell which summoned his valet.

Isidor answered that summons. Jos had sunk in a chair--he had torn offhis neckcloths, and turned down his collars, and was sitting with bothhis hands lifted to his throat.

"Coupez-moi, Isidor," shouted he; "vite! Coupez-moi!"

Isidor thought for a moment he had gone mad, and that he wished hisvalet to cut his throat.

"Les moustaches," gasped Joe; "les moustaches--coupy, rasy, vite!"--hisFrench was of this sort--voluble, as we have said, but notremarkable for grammar.

Isidor swept off the mustachios in no time with the razor, and heardwith inexpressible delight his master's orders that he should fetch ahat and a plain coat. "Ne porty ploo--habit militair--bonn--bonny avoo, prenny dehors"--were Jos's words--the coat and cap were at lasthis property.

This gift being made, Jos selected a plain black coat and waistcoatfrom his stock, and put on a large white neckcloth, and a plain beaver.If he could have got a shovel hat he would have worn it. As it was, youwould have fancied he was a flourishing, large parson of the Church ofEngland.

"Venny maintenong," he continued, "sweevy--ally--party--dong la roo."And so having said, he plunged swiftly down the stairs of the house,and passed into the street.

Although Regulus had vowed that he was the only man of his regiment orof the allied army, almost, who had escaped being cut to pieces by Ney,it appeared that his statement was incorrect, and that a good numbermore of the supposed victims had survived the massacre. Many scores ofRegulus's comrades had found their way back to Brussels, and allagreeing that they had run away--filled the whole town with an idea ofthe defeat of the allies. The arrival of the French was expectedhourly; the panic continued, and preparations for flight went oneverywhere. No horses! thought Jos, in terror. He made Isidor inquireof scores of persons, whether they had any to lend or sell, and hisheart sank within him, at the negative answers returned everywhere.Should he take the journey on foot? Even fear could not render thatponderous body so active.

Almost all the hotels occupied by the English in Brussels face theParc, and Jos wandered irresolutely about in this quarter, with crowdsof other people, oppressed as he was by fear and curiosity. Somefamilies he saw more happy than himself, having discovered a team ofhorses, and rattling through the streets in retreat; others again therewere whose case was like his own, and who could not for any bribes orentreaties procure the necessary means of flight. Amongst thesewould-be fugitives, Jos remarked the Lady Bareacres and her daughter,who sate in their carriage in the porte-cochere of their hotel, alltheir imperials packed, and the only drawback to whose flight was thesame want of motive power which kept Jos stationary.

Rebecca Crawley occupied apartments in this hotel; and had before thisperiod had sundry hostile meetings with the ladies of the Bareacresfamily. My Lady Bareacres cut Mrs. Crawley on the stairs when they metby chance; and in all places where the latter's name was mentioned,spoke perseveringly ill of her neighbour. The Countess was shocked atthe familiarity of General Tufto with the aide-de-camp's wife. TheLady Blanche avoided her as if she had been an infectious disease.Only the Earl himself kept up a sly occasional acquaintance with her,when out of the jurisdiction of his ladies.

Rebecca had her revenge now upon these insolent enemies. If becameknown in the hotel that Captain Crawley's horses had been left behind,and when the panic began, Lady Bareacres condescended to send her maidto the Captain's wife with her Ladyship's compliments, and a desire toknow the price of Mrs. Crawley's horses. Mrs. Crawley returned a notewith her compliments, and an intimation that it was not her custom totransact bargains with ladies' maids.

This curt reply brought the Earl in person to Becky's apartment; but hecould get no more success than the first ambassador. "Send a lady'smaid to ME!" Mrs. Crawley cried in great anger; "why didn't my LadyBareacres tell me to go and saddle the horses! Is it her Ladyship thatwants to escape, or her Ladyship's femme de chambre?" And this was allthe answer that the Earl bore back to his Countess.

What will not necessity do? The Countess herself actually came to waitupon Mrs. Crawley on the failure of her second envoy. She entreatedher to name her own price; she even offered to invite Becky toBareacres House, if the latter would but give her the means ofreturning to that residence. Mrs. Crawley sneered at her.

"I don't want to be waited on by bailiffs in livery," she said; "youwill never get back though most probably--at least not you and yourdiamonds together. The French will have those They will be here in twohours, and I shall be half way to Ghent by that time. I would not sellyou my horses, no, not for the two largest diamonds that your Ladyshipwore at the ball." Lady Bareacres trembled with rage and terror. Thediamonds were sewed into her habit, and secreted in my Lord's paddingand boots. "Woman, the diamonds are at the banker's, and I WILL havethe horses," she said. Rebecca laughed in her face. The infuriateCountess went below, and sate in her carriage; her maid, her courier,and her husband were sent once more through the town, each to look forcattle; and woe betide those who came last! Her Ladyship was resolvedon departing the very instant the horses arrived from any quarter--withher husband or without him.

Rebecca had the pleasure of seeing her Ladyship in the horselesscarriage, and keeping her eyes fixed upon her, and bewailing, in theloudest tone of voice, the Countess's perplexities. "Not to be able toget horses!" she said, "and to have all those diamonds sewed into thecarriage cushions! What a prize it will be for the French when theycome!--the carriage and the diamonds, I mean; not the lady!" She gavethis information to the landlord, to the servants, to the guests, andthe innumerable stragglers about the courtyard. Lady Bareacres couldhave shot her from the carriage window.

It was while enjoying the humiliation of her enemy that Rebecca caughtsight of Jos, who made towards her directly he perceived her.

That altered, frightened, fat face, told his secret well enough. Hetoo wanted to fly, and was on the look-out for the means of escape. "HEshall buy my horses," thought Rebecca, "and I'll ride the mare."

Jos walked up to his friend, and put the question for the hundredthtime during the past hour, "Did she know where horses were to be had?"

"What, YOU fly?" said Rebecca, with a laugh. "I thought you were thechampion of all the ladies, Mr. Sedley."

"I--I'm not a military man," gasped he.

"And Amelia?--Who is to protect that poor little sister of yours?"asked Rebecca. "You surely would not desert her?"

"What good can I do her, suppose--suppose the enemy arrive?" Josanswered. "They'll spare the women; but my man tells me that they havetaken an oath to give no quarter to the men--the dastardly cowards."

"Horrid!" cried Rebecca, enjoying his perplexity.

"Besides, I don't want to desert her," cried the brother. "She SHAN'Tbe deserted. There is a seat for her in my carriage, and one for you,dear Mrs. Crawley, if you will come; and if we can get horses--" sighedhe--

"I have two to sell," the lady said. Jos could have flung himself intoher arms at the news. "Get the carriage, Isidor," he cried; "we'vefound them--we have found them."

"My horses never were in harness," added the lady. "Bullfinch would kickthe carriage to pieces, if you put him in the traces."

"But he is quiet to ride?" asked the civilian.

"As quiet as a lamb, and as fast as a hare," answered Rebecca.

"Do you think he is up to my weight?" Jos said. He was already on hisback, in imagination, without ever so much as a thought for poorAmelia. What person who loved a horse-speculation could resist such atemptation?

In reply, Rebecca asked him to come into her room, whither he followedher quite breathless to conclude the bargain. Jos seldom spent ahalf-hour in his life which cost him so much money. Rebecca, measuringthe value of the goods which she had for sale by Jos's eagerness topurchase, as well as by the scarcity of the article, put upon herhorses a price so prodigious as to make even the civilian draw back."She would sell both or neither," she said, resolutely. Rawdon hadordered her not to part with them for a price less than that which shespecified. Lord Bareacres below would give her the same money--and withall her love and regard for the Sedley family, her dear Mr. Joseph mustconceive that poor people must live--nobody, in a word, could be moreaffectionate, but more firm about the matter of business.

Jos ended by agreeing, as might be supposed of him. The sum he had togive her was so large that he was obliged to ask for time; so large asto be a little fortune to Rebecca, who rapidly calculated that withthis sum, and the sale of the residue of Rawdon's effects, and herpension as a widow should he fall, she would now be absolutelyindependent of the world, and might look her weeds steadily in the face.

Once or twice in the day she certainly had herself thought aboutflying. But her reason gave her better counsel. "Suppose the Frenchdo come," thought Becky, "what can they do to a poor officer's widow?Bah! the times of sacks and sieges are over. We shall be let to gohome quietly, or I may live pleasantly abroad with a snug littleincome."

Meanwhile Jos and Isidor went off to the stables to inspect the newlypurchased cattle. Jos bade his man saddle the horses at once. He wouldride away that very night, that very hour. And he left the valet busyin getting the horses ready, and went homewards himself to prepare forhis departure. It must be secret. He would go to his chamber by theback entrance. He did not care to face Mrs. O'Dowd and Amelia, and ownto them that he was about to run.

By the time Jos's bargain with Rebecca was completed, and his horseshad been visited and examined, it was almost morning once more. Butthough midnight was long passed, there was no rest for the city; thepeople were up, the lights in the houses flamed, crowds were stillabout the doors, and the streets were busy. Rumours of various natureswent still from mouth to mouth: one report averred that the Prussianshad been utterly defeated; another that it was the English who had beenattacked and conquered: a third that the latter had held their ground.This last rumour gradually got strength. No Frenchmen had made theirappearance. Stragglers had come in from the army bringing reports moreand more favourable: at last an aide-de-camp actually reached Brusselswith despatches for the Commandant of the place, who placardedpresently through the town an official announcement of the success ofthe allies at Quatre Bras, and the entire repulse of the French underNey after a six hours' battle. The aide-de-camp must have arrivedsometime while Jos and Rebecca were making their bargain together, orthe latter was inspecting his purchase. When he reached his own hotel,he found a score of its numerous inhabitants on the thresholddiscoursing of the news; there was no doubt as to its truth. And hewent up to communicate it to the ladies under his charge. He did notthink it was necessary to tell them how he had intended to take leaveof them, how he had bought horses, and what a price he had paid forthem.

But success or defeat was a minor matter to them, who had only thoughtfor the safety of those they loved. Amelia, at the news of the victory,became still more agitated even than before. She was for going thatmoment to the army. She besought her brother with tears to conduct herthither. Her doubts and terrors reached their paroxysm; and the poorgirl, who for many hours had been plunged into stupor, raved and ranhither and thither in hysteric insanity--a piteous sight. No manwrithing in pain on the hard-fought field fifteen miles off, where lay,after their struggles, so many of the brave--no man suffered morekeenly than this poor harmless victim of the war. Jos could not bearthe sight of her pain. He left his sister in the charge of her stouterfemale companion, and descended once more to the threshold of thehotel, where everybody still lingered, and talked, and waited for morenews.

It grew to be broad daylight as they stood here, and fresh news beganto arrive from the war, brought by men who had been actors in thescene. Wagons and long country carts laden with wounded came rollinginto the town; ghastly groans came from within them, and haggard faceslooked up sadly from out of the straw. Jos Sedley was looking at oneof these carriages with a painful curiosity--the moans of the peoplewithin were frightful--the wearied horses could hardly pull the cart."Stop! stop!" a feeble voice cried from the straw, and the carriagestopped opposite Mr. Sedley's hotel.

"It is George, I know it is!" cried Amelia, rushing in a moment to thebalcony, with a pallid face and loose flowing hair. It was not George,however, but it was the next best thing: it was news of him.

It was poor Tom Stubble, who had marched out of Brussels so gallantlytwenty-four hours before, bearing the colours of the regiment, which hehad defended very gallantly upon the field. A French lancer hadspeared the young ensign in the leg, who fell, still bravely holding tohis flag. At the conclusion of the engagement, a place had been foundfor the poor boy in a cart, and he had been brought back to Brussels.

"Mr. Sedley, Mr. Sedley!" cried the boy, faintly, and Jos came upalmost frightened at the appeal. He had not at first distinguished whoit was that called him.

Little Tom Stubble held out his hot and feeble hand. "I'm to be takenin here," he said. "Osborne--and--and Dobbin said I was; and you areto give the man two napoleons: my mother will pay you." This youngfellow's thoughts, during the long feverish hours passed in the cart,had been wandering to his father's parsonage which he had quitted onlya few months before, and he had sometimes forgotten his pain in thatdelirium.

The hotel was large, and the people kind, and all the inmates of thecart were taken in and placed on various couches. The young ensign wasconveyed upstairs to Osborne's quarters. Amelia and the Major's wifehad rushed down to him, when the latter had recognised him from thebalcony. You may fancy the feelings of these women when they were toldthat the day was over, and both their husbands were safe; in what muterapture Amelia fell on her good friend's neck, and embraced her; inwhat a grateful passion of prayer she fell on her knees, and thankedthe Power which had saved her husband.

Our young lady, in her fevered and nervous condition, could have had nomore salutary medicine prescribed for her by any physician than thatwhich chance put in her way. She and Mrs. O'Dowd watched incessantlyby the wounded lad, whose pains were very severe, and in the duty thusforced upon her, Amelia had not time to brood over her personalanxieties, or to give herself up to her own fears and forebodings afterher wont. The young patient told in his simple fashion the events ofthe day, and the actions of our friends of the gallant --th. They hadsuffered severely. They had lost very many officers and men. TheMajor's horse had been shot under him as the regiment charged, and theyall thought that O'Dowd was gone, and that Dobbin had got his majority,until on their return from the charge to their old ground, the Majorwas discovered seated on Pyramus's carcase, refreshing him-self from acase-bottle. It was Captain Osborne that cut down the French lancerwho had speared the ensign. Amelia turned so pale at the notion, thatMrs. O'Dowd stopped the young ensign in this story. And it was CaptainDobbin who at the end of the day, though wounded himself, took up thelad in his arms and carried him to the surgeon, and thence to the cartwhich was to bring him back to Brussels. And it was he who promisedthe driver two louis if he would make his way to Mr. Sedley's hotel inthe city; and tell Mrs. Captain Osborne that the action was over, andthat her husband was unhurt and well.

"Indeed, but he has a good heart that William Dobbin," Mrs. O'Dowdsaid, "though he is always laughing at me."

Young Stubble vowed there was not such another officer in the army, andnever ceased his praises of the senior captain, his modesty, hiskindness, and his admirable coolness in the field. To these parts ofthe conversation, Amelia lent a very distracted attention: it was onlywhen George was spoken of that she listened, and when he was notmentioned, she thought about him.

In tending her patient, and in thinking of the wonderful escapes of theday before, her second day passed away not too slowly with Amelia.There was only one man in the army for her: and as long as he waswell, it must be owned that its movements interested her little. Allthe reports which Jos brought from the streets fell very vaguely on herears; though they were sufficient to give that timorous gentleman, andmany other people then in Brussels, every disquiet. The French hadbeen repulsed certainly, but it was after a severe and doubtfulstruggle, and with only a division of the French army. The Emperor,with the main body, was away at Ligny, where he had utterly annihilatedthe Prussians, and was now free to bring his whole force to bear uponthe allies. The Duke of Wellington was retreating upon the capital, anda great battle must be fought under its walls probably, of which thechances were more than doubtful. The Duke of Wellington had but twentythousand British troops on whom he could rely, for the Germans were rawmilitia, the Belgians disaffected, and with this handful his Grace hadto resist a hundred and fifty thousand men that had broken into Belgiumunder Napoleon. Under Napoleon! What warrior was there, howeverfamous and skilful, that could fight at odds with him?

Jos thought of all these things, and trembled. So did all the rest ofBrussels--where people felt that the fight of the day before was butthe prelude to the greater combat which was imminent. One of thearmies opposed to the Emperor was scattered to the winds already. Thefew English that could be brought to resist him would perish at theirposts, and the conqueror would pass over their bodies into the city.Woe be to those whom he found there! Addresses were prepared, publicfunctionaries assembled and debated secretly, apartments were gotready, and tricoloured banners and triumphal emblems manufactured, towelcome the arrival of His Majesty the Emperor and King.

The emigration still continued, and wherever families could find meansof departure, they fled. When Jos, on the afternoon of the 17th ofJune, went to Rebecca's hotel, he found that the great Bareacres'carriage had at length rolled away from the porte-cochere. The Earlhad procured a pair of horses somehow, in spite of Mrs. Crawley, andwas rolling on the road to Ghent. Louis the Desired was getting readyhis portmanteau in that city, too. It seemed as if Misfortune wasnever tired of worrying into motion that unwieldy exile.

Jos felt that the delay of yesterday had been only a respite, and thathis dearly bought horses must of a surety be put into requisition. Hisagonies were very severe all this day. As long as there was an Englisharmy between Brussels and Napoleon, there was no need of immediateflight; but he had his horses brought from their distant stables, tothe stables in the court-yard of the hotel where he lived; so that theymight be under his own eyes, and beyond the risk of violent abduction.Isidor watched the stable-door constantly, and had the horses saddled,to be ready for the start. He longed intensely for that event.

After the reception of the previous day, Rebecca did not care to comenear her dear Amelia. She clipped the bouquet which George had broughther, and gave fresh water to the flowers, and read over the letterwhich he had sent her. "Poor wretch," she said, twirling round thelittle bit of paper in her fingers, "how I could crush her withthis!--and it is for a thing like this that she must break her heart,forsooth--for a man who is stupid--a coxcomb--and who does not care forher. My poor good Rawdon is worth ten of this creature." And then shefell to thinking what she should do if--if anything happened to poorgood Rawdon, and what a great piece of luck it was that he had left hishorses behind.

In the course of this day too, Mrs. Crawley, who saw not without angerthe Bareacres party drive off, bethought her of the precaution whichthe Countess had taken, and did a little needlework for her ownadvantage; she stitched away the major part of her trinkets, bills, andbank-notes about her person, and so prepared, was ready for anyevent--to fly if she thought fit, or to stay and welcome the conqueror,were he Englishman or Frenchman. And I am not sure that she did notdream that night of becoming a duchess and Madame la Marechale, whileRawdon wrapped in his cloak, and making his bivouac under the rain atMount Saint John, was thinking, with all the force of his heart, aboutthe little wife whom he had left behind him.

The next day was a Sunday. And Mrs. Major O'Dowd had the satisfactionof seeing both her patients refreshed in health and spirits by somerest which they had taken during the night. She herself had slept on agreat chair in Amelia's room, ready to wait upon her poor friend or theensign, should either need her nursing. When morning came, this robustwoman went back to the house where she and her Major had their billet;and here performed an elaborate and splendid toilette, befitting theday. And it is very possible that whilst alone in that chamber, whichher husband had inhabited, and where his cap still lay on the pillow,and his cane stood in the corner, one prayer at least was sent up toHeaven for the welfare of the brave soldier, Michael O'Dowd.

When she returned she brought her prayer-book with her, and her unclethe Dean's famous book of sermons, out of which she never failed toread every Sabbath; not understanding all, haply, not pronouncing manyof the words aright, which were long and abstruse--for the Dean was alearned man, and loved long Latin words--but with great gravity, vastemphasis, and with tolerable correctness in the main. How often has myMick listened to these sermons, she thought, and me reading in thecabin of a calm! She proposed to resume this exercise on the presentday, with Amelia and the wounded ensign for a congregation. The sameservice was read on that day in twenty thousand churches at the samehour; and millions of British men and women, on their knees, imploredprotection of the Father of all.

They did not hear the noise which disturbed our little congregation atBrussels. Much louder than that which had interrupted them two dayspreviously, as Mrs. O'Dowd was reading the service in her best voice,the cannon of Waterloo began to roar.

When Jos heard that dreadful sound, he made up his mind that he wouldbear this perpetual recurrence of terrors no longer, and would fly atonce. He rushed into the sick man's room, where our three friends hadpaused in their prayers, and further interrupted them by a passionateappeal to Amelia.

"I can't stand it any more, Emmy," he said; "I won't stand it; and youmust come with me. I have bought a horse for you--never mind at whatprice--and you must dress and come with me, and ride behind Isidor."

"God forgive me, Mr. Sedley, but you are no better than a coward," Mrs.O'Dowd said, laying down the book.

"I say come, Amelia," the civilian went on; "never mind what she says;why are we to stop here and be butchered by the Frenchmen?"

"You forget the --th, my boy," said the little Stubble, the woundedhero, from his bed--"and and you won't leave me, will you, Mrs. O'Dowd?"

"No, my dear fellow," said she, going up and kissing the boy. "No harmshall come to you while I stand by. I don't budge till I get the wordfrom Mick. A pretty figure I'd be, wouldn't I, stuck behind that chapon a pillion?"

This image caused the young patient to burst out laughing in his bed,and even made Amelia smile. "I don't ask her," Jos shouted out--"Idon't ask that--that Irishwoman, but you Amelia; once for all, will youcome?"

"Without my husband, Joseph?" Amelia said, with a look of wonder, andgave her hand to the Major's wife. Jos's patience was exhausted.

"Good-bye, then," he said, shaking his fist in a rage, and slamming thedoor by which he retreated. And this time he really gave his order formarch: and mounted in the court-yard. Mrs. O'Dowd heard theclattering hoofs of the horses as they issued from the gate; andlooking on, made many scornful remarks on poor Joseph as he rode downthe street with Isidor after him in the laced cap. The horses, whichhad not been exercised for some days, were lively, and sprang about thestreet. Jos, a clumsy and timid horseman, did not look to advantage inthe saddle. "Look at him, Amelia dear, driving into the parlourwindow. Such a bull in a china-shop I never saw." And presently thepair of riders disappeared at a canter down the street leading in thedirection of the Ghent road, Mrs. O'Dowd pursuing them with a fire ofsarcasm so long as they were in sight.

All that day from morning until past sunset, the cannon never ceased toroar. It was dark when the cannonading stopped all of a sudden.

All of us have read of what occurred during that interval. The tale isin every Englishman's mouth; and you and I, who were children when thegreat battle was won and lost, are never tired of hearing andrecounting the history of that famous action. Its remembrance ranklesstill in the bosoms of millions of the countrymen of those brave menwho lost the day. They pant for an opportunity of revenging thathumiliation; and if a contest, ending in a victory on their part,should ensue, elating them in their turn, and leaving its cursed legacyof hatred and rage behind to us, there is no end to the so-called gloryand shame, and to the alternations of successful and unsuccessfulmurder, in which two high-spirited nations might engage. Centurieshence, we Frenchmen and Englishmen might be boasting and killing eachother still, carrying out bravely the Devil's code of honour.

All our friends took their share and fought like men in the greatfield. All day long, whilst the women were praying ten miles away, thelines of the dauntless English infantry were receiving and repellingthe furious charges of the French horsemen. Guns which were heard atBrussels were ploughing up their ranks, and comrades falling, and theresolute survivors closing in. Towards evening, the attack of theFrench, repeated and resisted so bravely, slackened in its fury. Theyhad other foes besides the British to engage, or were preparing for afinal onset. It came at last: the columns of the Imperial Guardmarched up the hill of Saint Jean, at length and at once to sweep theEnglish from the height which they had maintained all day, and spite ofall: unscared by the thunder of the artillery, which hurled death fromthe English line--the dark rolling column pressed on and up the hill.It seemed almost to crest the eminence, when it began to wave andfalter. Then it stopped, still facing the shot. Then at last theEnglish troops rushed from the post from which no enemy had been ableto dislodge them, and the Guard turned and fled.

No more firing was heard at Brussels--the pursuit rolled miles away.Darkness came down on the field and city: and Amelia was praying forGeorge, who was lying on his face, dead, with a bullet through hisheart.