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to restrain. Rebecca, too, bethought her that it was time she should go in and comfort her dearest Amelia. "Au revoir," she said, kissing her hand to Mr. Joseph, and tapped gently at the door of his sister's apartment. As she entered and closed the door on herself, he sank down in a chair, and gazed and sighed and puffed portentously. That coat is very tight for Milor," Isidor said, still having his eye on the frogs; but his master heard him not: his thoughts were elsewhere: now glowing, maddening, upon the contemplation of the enchanting Rebecca anon shrinking guiltily before the vision of the jealous Rawdon Crawley, with his curling, fierce mustaches, and his terrible dueling pistols loaded and cocked.

"Are you well?" said Amelia. "I dare say you are. You don't love your husband. You would not be here if you did. Tell me, Rebecca, did I ever do you any thing but kindness?"

"Indeed, Amelia, no," the other said, still hanging down her head.

"When you were quite poor, who was it that befriended you? Was I not a sister to you? You saw us all in happier days before he married me. I was all in all then to him; or would he have given up his fortune, his family, as he nobly did, to make me happy? Why did you come between my love and me? Who sent you to separate those whom God joined, and take my darling's heart from me -my own husband? Do you think you could love him as I did? His love was every

rob me of it. For shame, Rebecca; bad and wicked woman-false friend and false wife.” "Amelia, I protest before God, I have done my husband no wrong," Rebecca said, turning from her.

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Have you done me no wrong, Rebecca? You did not succeed, but you tried. Ask your heart if you did not?"

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She knows nothing," Rebecca thought. 66 He came back to me. I knew he would I knew that no falsehood, no flattery, could keep him from me long. I knew he would come. I prayed so that he should."

Rebecca's appearance struck Amelia with terror, and made her shrink back. It re-thing to me. You knew it, and wanted to called her to the world and the remembrance of yesterday. In the overpowering fears about to-morrow she had forgotten Rebecca, -jealousy-every thing except that her husband was gone, and was in danger. Until this dauntless worldling came in and broke the spell, and lifted the latch, we too have foreborne to enter into that sad chamber. How long had that poor girl been on her knees! what hours of speechless prayer and bitter prostration had she passed there! The war-chroniclers who write brilliant stories of fight and triumph scarcely tell us of these. These are too mean parts of the pageant and you don't hear widows' cries or mothers' sobs in the midst of the shouts and jubilation in the great chorus of victory. And yet when was the time, that such have not cried out: heart-broken, humble protestants, unheard in the uproar of the triumph! After the first movement of terror in Amelia's mind-when Rebecca's green eyes lighted upon her, and rustling in her fresh silks and brilliant ornaments, the latter tripped up with extended arms to embrace her-a feeling of anger succeeded, and from being deadly pale before, her face flushed up red, and she returned Rebecca's look, after a moment, with a steadiness which surprised and somewhat abashed her rival.

"Dearest Amelia, you are very unwell," the visitor said, putting forth her hand to take Amelia's. 44 What is it? I could not rest until I knew how you were." Amelia drew back her hand-never since her life began had that gentle soul refused to believe or to answer any demonstration of good-will or affection. But she drew back her hand, and trembled all over. Why are you here, Rebecca?" she said, still looking at her solemnly with her large eyes. These glances troubled her visitor.

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The poor girl spoke these words with a spirit and volubility which Rebecca bad never before seen in her, and before which the latter was quite dumb. "But what have I done to you," she continued in a more pitiful tone, "that you should try and take him from me? I had him but for six weeks. You might have spared me those, Rebecca. And yet, from the very first day of our wedding, you came and blighted it. Now he is gone, are you come to see how unhappy 1 am?" She continued, You made me wretched enough for the past fortnight: you might have spared me to-day."

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"I-I never came here," interposed Rebecca, with unlucky truth.

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No. You didn't come. You took him away. Are you come to fetch him from me?" she continued in a wilder tone. "He was here, but he is gone now. There on that very sofa he sate. Don't touch it. We sate and talked there. I was on his knee, and my arms were round his neck, and we said Our Father.' Yes, he was here and they came and took him away, but he promised me to come back."

"He will come back, my dear," said Rebecca, touched in spite of herself.

"Look," said Amelia, "this is his sashisn't it a pretty color?" and she took up the fringe and kissed it. She had tied it round her waist at some part of the day. She had forgotten her anger, her jealousy, the very presence of her rival seemingly. For

she walked silently and almost with a smile ever; and she was the better of this control upon her face, toward the bed, and began and company. They went on till two to smooth down George's pillow. o'clock; their hearts were with the column Rebecca walked, too, silently away. "How as it marched farther and farther away. is Amelia?" asked Jos, who still held his position in the chair.

"There should be somebody with her," said Rebecca. "I think she is very unwell;" and she went away with a very grave face, refusing Mr. Sedley's entreaties that she would stay and partake of the early dinner which he had ordered.

Dreadful doubt and anguish-prayers and fears and griefs unspeakable-followed the regiment. It was the women's tribute to the war. It taxes both alike, and takes the blood of the men, and the tears of the women.

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At half-past two an event occurred of daily importance to Mr. Joseph: the dinner hour arrived. Warriors may fight and perish, but he must dine. He came into Amelia's room to see if he could coax her to share that meal. Try," said he; "the soup is very good. Do try, Emmy," and he kissed her hand. Except when she was married, he had not done so much for years before. "You are very good and kind, Joseph," she said. "Every body is, but, if you please, I will stay in my room to-day."

Rebecca was of a good-natured and obliging disposition; and she liked Amelia rather than otherwise. Even her hard words, reproachful as they were, were complimentary -the groans of a person stinging under defeat. Meeting Mrs. O'Dowd, whom the dean's sermons had by no means comforted, and who was walking very disconsolately in the Parc, Rebecca accosted the latter, rather to the surprise of the major's wife, who was The savor of the soup, however, was not accustomed to such marks of politeness agreeable to Mrs. O'Dowd's nostrils; and from Mrs. Rawdon Crawley, and informing she thought she would bear Mr. Jos comher that poor little Mrs. Osborne was in a pany. So the two sate down to their meal. desperate condition, and almost mad with God bless the meat," said the major's grief, sent off the good-natured Irishwoman straight to see if she could console her young favorite.

"I've cares of my own enough," Mrs. O'Dowd said gravely, "and I thought poor Amelia would be little wanting for company this day. But if she's so bad as you say, and you can't attend to her, who used to be so fond of her, faith I'll see if I can be of service. And so good marning to ye, madam;" with which speech and a toss of her head, the lady of the repayther took a farewell of Mrs. Crawley, whose company she by no means courted.

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Becky watched her marching off, with a smile on her lip. She had the keenest sense of humor, and the Parthian look which the retreating Mrs. O'Dowd flung over her shoulder, almost upset Mrs. Crawley's gravity. My service to ye, me fine madam, and I'm glad to see ye so cheerful," thought Peggy. "It's not you that will cry your eyes out with grief, any way." And with this she passed on, and speedily found her way to Mrs. Osborne's lodgings.

wife, solemnly; she was thinking of her honest Mick, riding at the head of his regiment; 'Tis but a bad dinner those poor boys will get to-day," she said, with a sigh, and then, like a philosopher, fell to.

Jos's spirits rose with his meal. He would drink the regiment's health; or, indeed, take any other excuse to indulge in a glass of champagne. "We'll drink to O'Dowd and the brave -th," said he, bowing gallantly to his guest. "Hey, Mrs. O'Dowd. Fill Mrs. O'Dowd's glass, Isidor.”

But all of a sudden, Isidor started, and the major's wife laid down her knife and fork. The windows of the room were open, and looked southward, and a dull, distant sound came over the sun-lighted roofs from that direction. "What is it?" said Jos. "Why don't you pour, you rascal?"

"C'est le feu," said Isidor, running to the balcony.

"God defend us; it's cannon!" Mrs. O'Dowd cried, starting up, and followed too to the window. A thousand pale and anxious faces might have been seen looking from other casements. And presently it seemed as if the whole population of the city rushed into the streets.

The poor soul was still at the bedside, where Rebecca had left her, and stood almost crazy with grief. The major's wife, a stronger minded woman, endeavored her best to comfort her young friend. "You must bear up, Amelia dear," she said kindly, "for he mustn't find you ill when he sends for you after the victory. It's not you are the only woman that are in the hands of IN WHICH JOS TAKES FLIGHT, AND God this day."

"I know that. I am very wicked, very weak," Amelia said. She knew her own weakness well enough. The presence of the more resolute friend checked it, how

CHAPTER XXXII.

WAR IS BROUGHT TO A CLOSE.

THE

WE of peaceful London city have never beheld-and please God never shall witness

such a scene of hurry and alarm, as that which Brussels presented. Crowds rushed

t'in

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

"Are you going to take her out 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; Isidor is gone for them," Jos continued.

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What do you want with driving tonight ?" answered the lady. Isn't she 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 his foot energetically. "I say the horses are ordered— yes, the horses are ordered. It's all over, and-"

to the Namur gate, from which direction | light in the cheerless company of his empty the noise proceeded, and many rode along champagne-bottles, he began to open his the level chaussée, to be in advance of any mind to her. intelligence from the army. Each man asked his neighbor for news; and even great English lords and ladies condescended to speak to persons whom they did not know. The friends of the French went abroad, wild with excitement, and prophesying the triumph of their emperor. The merchants closed their shops, and came out to swell the general chorus of alarm and clamor. Women rushed to the churches, and crowded the chapels, and kneeled and prayed on the flags and steps. The dull sound of the cannon went on rolling, rolling. Presently carriages with travelers began to leave the town, galloping away by the Ghent barrier. The prophecies of the French partisans began to pass for facts. "He has cut the armies in two," it was said. "He is marching straight on Brussels. He will overpower the English, and be here tonight." "He will overpower the English," shrieked Isidor to his master, "and will be here to-night." The man bounded in and out from the lodgings to the street, always returning with some fresh particulars of disaster. Jos's face grew paler and paler. Alarm began to take entire possession of the stout civilian. All the champagne he drank brought no courage to him. Before sunset he was worked up to such a pitch of nervousness as gratified his friend Isidor to behold, who now counted surely upon the spoils of the owner of the laced coat.

The women were away all this time. After hearing the firing for a moment, the stout major's wife bethought her of her friend in the next chamber, and ran in to watch, and if possible to console Amelia. The idea that she had that helpless and gentle creature to protect, gave additional 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 mental supplication. "I never let go her hand once," said the stout lady afterward, until after sunset, when the firing was over." Pauline, the bonne, was on her knees at church, hard by, praying for son homme à elle.

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

"I'm off for Ghent," Jos answered. Every body is going; there is a place for you! We shall start in half-an-hour."

The major's wife looked at him with infinite scorn. "I don't move till O'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'Dowd put herself with arms akimbo before the bed-room door.

"Is it her mother you're going to take her to?" she said; "or do you want to go to mamma yourself, Mr. Sedley? Good marning—a pleasant journey to ye, sir. Bon voyage, as they say, and take my counsel, and shave off them mustaches, or they'll bring you into mischief."

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D-n!" yelled out Jos, wild with fear, rage, and mortification; and Isidor came in at this juncture, swearing in his turn. "Pas de cheveaux, sacreblue!" hissed out the furious domestic. All the horses were gone. Jos was not the only man in Brussels seized with panic that day.

But Jos's fears, great and cruel as they were already, were destined to increase to an almost frantic pitch before the night was over. It has been mentioned how Pauline, the bonne, had son homme à elle, also in the ranks of the army that had gone out to meet the Emperor Napoleon. This lover was a native of Brussels, and a Belgian hussar. The troops of his nation signalized themselves in this war for any thing but courage,

When the noise of the cannonading was over, Mrs. O'Dowd issued out of Amelia's room into the parlor adjoining, where Jos sate with two emptied flasks, and courage entirely gone. Once or twice he had ven-young Van Cutsum, Pauline's admirer, was tured into his sister's bed-room, looking very much alarmed, and as if he would say something. But the major's wife kept her place, and he went away without disburthening himself of his speech. He was ashamed to tell her that he wanted to fly.

But when she made her appearance in the dining-room, where he sate in the twi

too good a soldier to disobey his colonel's orders to run away. While in garrison at Brussels young Regulus (he had been born in the revolutionary times) found his great comfort, and passed almost all his leisure moments in Pauline's kitchen; and it was with pockets and holsters crammed full of good things from her larder, that he had taken

leave of his weeping sweetheart, to proceed | the English. upon the campaign a few days before.

As far as his regiment was concerned, this campaign was over now. They had formed a part of the division under the command of his sovereign apparent, the Prince of Orange, and as respected length of swords and mustaches, and the richness of uniform and equipments, Regulus and his comrades looked to be as gallant a body of men as ever trumpets sounded for.

When Ney dashed upon the advance of the allied troops, carrying one position after the other, until the arrival of the great body of the British army from Brussels changed the aspect of the combat of Quatre Bras, the squadrons among which Regulus rode showed the greatest activity in retreating before the French, and were dislodged from one post and another which they occupied with perfect alacrity on their part. Their movements were only checked by the advance of the British in their rear. Thus forced to halt, the enemy's cavalry (whose bloodthirsty obstinacy can not be too severely reprehended) had at length an opportunity of coming to close quarters with the brave Belgians before them; who preferred to encounter the British rather than the French, and at once turning tail rode through the English regiments that were behind them, and scattered in all directions. The regiment in fact did not exist any more. It was nowhere. It had no head-quarters. Regulus found himself galloping many miles from the field of action, entirely alone; and whither should he fly for refuge so naturally as to that kitchen and those faithful arms in which Pauline had so often welcomed him?

The Brunswickers were routed and had fled their duke was killed. It was a general debacle. He sought to drown his sorrow for the defeat in floods of beer.

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Isidor, who had come into the kitchen, heard the conversation, and rushed 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 British army is in full flight; there is only one man escaped, and he is in the kitchen now-come and hear him." So Jos tottered into that apartment where Regulus still sate on the kitchen-table, and clung fast to his flagon of beer. In the best French which he could muster, and which was in sooth of a very ungrammatical sort, Jos besought the hussar to tell his tale. The disasters deepened as Regulus spoke. He was the only man of his regiment not slain on the field. He had seen the Duke of Brunswick fall, the black hussars fly, the Ecossais pounded down by the cannon.

"And the th?" gasped Jos.

"Cut in pieces," said the hussar-upon which Pauline crying out, “O my mistress, ma bonne petite dame," went off fairly into hysterics, and filled 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 an appealing look at Amelia's door, which Mrs. O'Dowd had closed and locked in his face; but he remembered how scornfully the later had received him, and after listening for a brief space at the door, he left it, and resolved to go into the street, for the first time that day. So, seizing a candle, he looked about for his gold-laced cap, and found it lying in its usual place, on a consoletable, in the ante-room, placed before a mirror at which Jos used to coquet, always giv

At some ten o'clock the clinking of a saber might have been heard up the stair of the house where the Osbornes occupied a story, in the continental fashion. A knock might have been heard at the kitchen door; and poor Pauline, come back from chuch, fainteding his side-locks a twirl, and his cap the almost with terror as she opened it and saw proper cock over his eyes, before he went before her her haggard hussar. He looked forth to make appearance in public. Such as pale as the midnight dragoon who came to is the force of habit, that even in the midst disturb Leonora. Pauline would have scream- of his terror he began mechanically to twided, but that her cry would have called her dle with his hair, and arrange the cock of master, and discovered her friend. She sti- his hat. Then he looked amazed at the pale fled her scream, then, and leading her hero face in the glass before him, and especially into the kitchen, gave him beer, and the at his mustaches, which had attained a rich choice bits from the dinner, which Jos had growth in the course of near seven weeks, not had the heart to taste. The hussar show-since they had come into the world. They ed he was no ghost by the prodigious quan- will mistake me for a military man, thought tity of flesh and beer which he devoured-he, remembering Isidor's warning, as to the and during the mouthfuls he told his tale of disaster.

His regiment had performed prodigies of courage, and had withstood for a while the onset of the whole French army. But they were overwhelmed at last, as was the whole British army by this time. Ney destroyed each regiment as it came up. The Belgians in vain interposed to prevent the butchery of

massacre with which all the defeated British army was threatened; and staggering back to his bed-chamber, he began wildly pulling the bell which summoned his valet.

Isidor answered that summons. Jos had sunk in a chair-he had torn off his neckcloths, and turned down his coliars, and was sitting with both his 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 his valet to cut his throat.

"Les moustaches," gasped Jos; "les moustaches-coupy, rasy, vite !"—his French was of this sort-voluable, as we have said, but not remarkable for grammar.

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Isidor swept off the mustaches in no time with the razor, and heard with inexpressible delight his master's orders that he should fetch a hat and a plain coat. Ne porty ploo-habit militair—bonny—donny a voo, prenny dehors"-were Jos's words-the coat and cap were at last his property.

This gift being made, Jos selected a plain black coat and waistcoat from 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, you would have fancied he was a flourishing, large parson of the Church of England.

Rebecca Crawley occupied apartments in this hotel; and had before, this period had sundry hostile meetings with the ladies of the Bareacres family. My Lady Bareacres cut Mrs. Crawley on the stairs when they met by chance; and in all places where the latter's name was mentioned, spoke perseveringly ill of her neighbor. The countess was shocked at the familiarity of General Tufto with the aid-de-camp's wife. The Lady 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. It became known in the hotel that Captain Crawley's horses had been left behind, and, when the panic began, Lady Bareacres condescended to send her maid to the captain's wife with her ladyship's compliments, and a desire to know the price of Mrs. Crawley's horses. Mrs. "Venny maintenong," he continued, "swee- Crawley returned a note with her compliry-ally-party-dong la roo." And so hav-ments, and an intimation that it was not

her custom to transact bargains with ladies' maids.

Lady Bareacres tell me to go and saddle the horses! Is it her ladyship that wants to escape, or her ladyship's femme de chambre?" And this was all the answer that the earl bore back to his countess.

ing said, he plunged swiftly down the stairs of the house, and passed into the street. Although Regulus had vowed that he was This curt reply brought the earl in person the only man of his regiment or of the allied to Becky's apartment; but he could get no army, almost, who had escaped being cut to more success than the first embassador. pieces by Ney, it appeared that his state-"Send a lady's maid to me!" Mrs. Crawment was incorrect, and that a good number ley cried in great anger; "why didn't my more of the supposed victims had survived the massacre. Many scores of Regulus's comrades had found their way back to Brussels, and all agreeing that they had run away-filled the whole town with an idea of the defeat of the allies. The arrival of the French was expected hourly; the panic continued, and preparations for flight went on every where. No horses! thought Jos, in terror. He made Isidor inquire of scores of persons, whether they had any to lend or sell, and his heart sank within him, at the negative answers returned every where. Should he take the journey on foot? Even fear could not render that ponderous body so

active.

What will not necessity do? The countess herself actually came to wait upon Mrs. Crawley on the failure of her second envoy. She entreated her to name her own price; she even offered to invite Becky to Bareacres House, if the latter would but give her the means of returning to that residence. Mrs. Crawley sneered at her.

The

"I don't want to be waited on by bailiffs in livery," she said; "you will never get back though most probably-at least, not Almost all the hotels occupied by the you and your diamonds together. English in Brussels face the Parc, and Jos French will have those. They will be here wandered irresolutely about in this quarter, in two hours, and I shall be half way to with crowds of other people, oppressed as Ghent by that time. I would not sell you he was by fear and curiosity. Some fami- my horses, no, not for the two largest dialies he saw more happy than himself, having monds that your ladyship wore at the ball." discovered a team of horses, and rattling Lady Bareacres trembled with rage and through the streets in retreat; others again terror. The diamonds were sewed into there were whose case was like his own, her habit, and secreted in my lord's padding and could not for any bribes or entreaties and boots. "Woman, the diamonds are at procure the necessary means of flight. the banker's, and I will have the horses," Among these would-be fugitives, Jos re- she said. Rebecca laughed in her face. marked the Lady Bareacres and her daugh- The infuriate countess went below, and sate ter, who sate in her carriage in the porte- in her carriage; her maid, her courier, and cochère of their hotel, all their imperials her husband were sent once more through packed, and the only drawback to whose the town, each to look for cattle; and wo flight was the same want of motive power betide those who came last! Her ladyship which kept Jos stationary. was resolved on departing the very instant

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