It was on the evening of the 3d of June that I was slowly wending my way back towards my hotel. Latterly I had refused all invitations to dine at the mess. And by a strange spirit of contradiction, while I avoided society, could yet not tear myself away from the spot where every remembrance of my past life was daily embittered by the scenes around me. But so it was; the movement of the troops, their reviews, their arrivals, and departures, possessed the most thrilling interest for me. While I could not endure to hear the mention of the high hopes and glorious vows each brave fellow muttered.

It was, as I remember, on the evening of the 3d of June, I entered my hotel lower in spirits even than usual. The bugles of the gallant Seventy-first, as they dropped down with the tide, played a well-known march I had heard the night before Talavera. All my bold and hardy days came rushing madly to my mind; and my present life seemed no longer endurable. The last army list and the newspaper lay on my table, and I turned to read the latest promotions with that feeling of bitterness by which an unhappy man loves to tamper with his misery.

Almost the first paragraph I threw my eyes upon ran thus:—

OSTEND, May 24.

The "Vixen" sloop-of-war, which arrived at our port this morning, brought among several other officers of inferior note Lieutenant-General Sir George Dashwood, appointed as Assistant-Adjutant-General on the staff of his Grace the Duke of Wellington. The gallant general was accompanied by his lovely and accomplished daughter, and his military secretary and aide-de-camp, Major Hammersley, of the 2d Life Guards. They partook of a hurried dejeune with the Burgomaster, and left immediately after for Brussels.

Twice I read this over, while a burning, hot sensation settled upon my throat and temples. "So Hammersley still persists; he still hopes. And what then?—what can it be to me?—my prospects have long since faded and vanished! Doubtless, ere this, I am as much forgotten as though we had never met,—would that we never had!" I threw up the window-sash; a light breeze was gently stirring, and as it fanned my hot and bursting head, I felt cooled and relieved. Some soldiers were talking beneath the window and among them I recognized Mike's voice.

"And so you sail at daybreak, Sergeant?"

"Yes, Mister Free; we have our orders to be on board before the flood-tide. The 'Thunderer' drops down the harbor to-night, and we are merely here to collect our stragglers."

"Faix, it's little I thought I'd ever envy a sodger any more; but someway, I wish I was going with you."

"Nothing easier, Mike," said another, laughing.

"Oh, true for you, but that's not the way I'd like to do it. If my master, now, would just get over his low spirits, and spake a word to the Duke of York, devil a doubt but he'd give him his commission back again, and then one might go in comfort."

"Your master likes his feather pillow better than a mossy stone under his head, I'm thinking; and he ain't far wrong either."

"You're out there, Neighbor. It's himself cares as little for hardship as any one of you; and sure it's not becoming me to say it, but the best blood and the best bred was always the last to give in for either cold or hunger, ay, or even complain of it."

Mike's few words shot upon me a new and a sudden conviction,—what was to prevent my joining once more? Obvious as such a thought now was, yet never until this moment did it present itself so palpably. So habituated does the mind become to a certain train of reasoning, framing its convictions according to one preconceived plan, and making every fact and every circumstance concur in strengthening what often may be but a prejudice,—that the absence of the old Fourteenth in India, the sale of my commission, the want of rank in the service, all seemed to present an insurmountable barrier to my re-entering the army. A few chance words now changed all this, and I saw that as a volunteer at least, the path of glory was still open, and the thought was no sooner conceived, than the resolve to execute it. While, therefore, I walked hurriedly up and down, devising, planning, plotting, and contriving, each instant I would stop to ask myself how it happened I had not determined upon this before.

As I summoned Mike before me, I could not repress a feeling of false shame, as I remembered how suddenly so natural a resolve must seem to have been adopted; and it was with somewhat of hesitation that I opened the conversation.

"And so, sir, you are going after all,—long life to you? But I never doubted it. Sure, you wouldn't be your father's son, and not join divarsion when there was any going on."

The poor fellow's eyes brightened up, his look gladdened, and before he reached the foot of the stairs, I heard his loud cheer of delight that once more we were off to the wars.

The packet sailed for Liverpool the next morning. By it we took our passage, and on the third morning I found myself in the waiting-room at the Horse Guards, expecting the moment of his Royal Highness's arrival; my determination being to serve as a volunteer in any regiment the duke might suggest, until such time as a prospect presented itself of entering the service as a subaltern.

The room was crowded by officers of every rank and arm in the service. The old, gray-headed general of division; the tall, stout-looking captain of infantry; the thin and boyish figure of the newly-gazetted cornet,—were all there; every accent, every look that marked each trait of national distinction in the empire, had its representative. The reserved and distant Scotchman; the gay, laughing, exuberant Patlander; the dark-eyed, and dark-browed North Briton,—collected in groups, talked eagerly together; while every instant, as some new arrival would enter, all eyes would turn to the spot, in eager expectation of the duke's coming. At last the clash of arms, as the guard turned out, apprised us of his approach, and we had scarcely time to stand up and stop the buzz of voices, when the door opened, and an aide-de-camp proclaimed in a full tone,—

"His Royal Highness the Commander-in-Chief!"

Bowing courteously on every side, he advanced through the crowd, turning his rapid and piercing look here and there through the room, while with that tact, the essential gift of his family, he recognized each person by his name, directing from one to the other some passing observation.

"Ah, Sir George Cockburn, how d' ye do?—your son's appointment is made out. Major Conyers, that application shall be looked to. Forbes, you must explain that I cannot possibly put men in the regiment of their choice; the service is the first thing. Lord L——, your memorial is before the Prince Regent; the cavalry command will, I believe, however, include your name."

While he spoke thus, he approached the place where I was standing, when, suddenly checking himself, he looked at me for a moment somewhat sternly. "Why not in uniform, sir?"

"Your Royal Highness, I am not in the army."

"Not in the army—not in the army? And why, may I beg to know, have you—But I'm speaking to Captain O'Malley, if I mistake not?"

"I held that rank, sir, once; but family necessities compelled me to sell out. I have now no commission in the service, but am come to beseech your Royal Highness's permission to serve as a volunteer."

"As a volunteer, eh—a volunteer? Come, that's right, I like that; but still, we want such fellows as you,—the man of Ciudad Rodrigo. Yes, my Lord L——, this is one of the stormers; fought his way through the trench among the first; must not be neglected. Hold yourself in readiness, Captain—hang it, I was forgetting; Mr. O'Malley, I mean—hold yourself in readiness for a staff appointment. Smithson, take a note of this." So saying, he moved on; and I found myself in the street, with a heart bounding with delight, and a step proud as an emperor's.

With such rapidity the events of my life now followed one upon the other, that I could take no note of time as it passed. On the fourth day after my conversation with the duke I found myself in Brussels. As yet I heard nothing of the appointment, nor was I gazetted to any regiment or any situation on the staff. It was strange enough, too, I met but few of my old associates, and not one of those with whom I had been most intimate in my Peninsular career; but it so chanced that very many of the regiments who most distinguished themselves in the Spanish campaigns, at the peace of 1814 were sent on foreign service. My old friend Power was, I learned, quartered at Courtrai; and as I was perfectly at liberty to dispose of my movements at present, I resolved to visit him there.

It was a beautiful evening on the 12th of June. I had been inquiring concerning post-horses for my journey, and was returning slowly through the park. The hour was late—near midnight—but a pale moonlight, a calm, unruffled air, and stronger inducements still, the song of the nightingales that abound in this place, prevailed on many of the loungers to prolong their stay; and so from many a shady walk and tangled arbor, the clank of a sabre would strike upon the ear, or the low, soft voice of woman would mingle her dulcet sound with the deep tones of her companion. I wandered on, thoughtful and alone; my mind pre-occupied so completely with the mighty events passing before me, I totally forgot my own humble career, and the circumstances of my fortune. As I turned into an alley which leads from the Great Walk towards the Palace of the Prince of Orange, I found my path obstructed by three persons who were walking slowly along in front of me. I was, as I have mentioned, deeply absorbed in thought, so that I found myself close behind them before I was aware of their presence. Two of the party were in uniform, and by their plumes, upon which a passing ray of moonlight flickered, I could detect they were general officers; the third was a lady. Unable to pass them, and unwilling to turn back, I was unavoidably compelled to follow, and however unwilling, to overhear somewhat of their conversation.

"You mistake, George, you mistake! Depend upon it, this will be no lengthened campaign; victory will soon decide for one side or the other. If Napoleon beats the Prussians one day, and beat us the next, the German States will rally to his standard, and the old confederation of the Rhine will spring up once more in all the plenitude of its power. The Champ de Mai has shown the enthusiasm of France for their Emperor. Louis XVIII fled from his capital, with few to follow, and none to say, 'God bless him!' The warlike spirit of the nation is roused again; the interval of peace, too short to teach habits of patient and enduring industry, is yet sufficient to whet the appetite for carnage; and nothing was wanting, save the presence of Napoleon alone, to restore all the brilliant delusions and intoxicating splendors of the empire."

"I confess," said the other, "I take a very different view from yours in this matter; to me, it seems that France is as tired of battles as of the Bourbons—"

I heard no more; for though the speaker continued, a misty confusion passed across my mind. The tones of his voice, well-remembered as they were by me, left me unable to think; and as I stood motionless on the spot, I muttered half aloud, "Sir George Dashwood." It was he, indeed; and she who leaned upon his arm could be no other than Lucy herself. I know not how it was; for many a long month I had schooled my heart, and taught myself to believe that time had dulled the deep impression she had made upon me, and that, were we to meet again, it would be with more sorrow on my part for my broken dream of happiness than of attachment and affection for her who inspired it; but now, scarcely was I near her—I had not gazed upon her looks, I had not even heard her voice—and yet, in all their ancient force, came back the early passages of my love; and as her footfall sounded gently upon the ground, my heart beat scarce less audibly. Alas, I could no longer disguise from myself the avowal that she it was, and she only, who implanted in my heart the thirst for distinction; and the moment was ever present to my mind in which, as she threw her arms around her father's neck, she muttered, "Oh, why not a soldier!"

As I thus reflected, an officer in full dress passed me hurriedly, and taking off his hat as he came up with the party before me, bowed obsequiously.

"My Lord ——, I believe, and Sir George Dashwood?" They replied by a bow. "Sir Thomas Picton wishes to speak with you both for a moment; he is standing beside the 'Basin.' If you will permit—" said he, looking towards Lucy.

"Thank you, sir," said Sir George; "if you will have the goodness to accompany us, my daughter will wait our coming here. Sit down, Lucy, we shall not be long away."

The next moment she was alone. The last echoes of their retiring footsteps had died away in the grassy walk, and in the calm and death-like stillness I could hear every rustle of her silk dress. The moonlight fell in fitful, straggling gleams between the leafy branches, and showed me her countenance, pale as marble. Her eyes were upturned slightly; her brown hair, divided upon her fair forehead, sparkled with a wreath of brilliants, which heightened the lustrous effect of her calm beauty; and now I could perceive her dress bespoke that she had been at some of the splendid entertainments which followed day after day in the busy capital.

Thus I stood within a few paces of her, to be near to whom, a few hours before, I would willingly have given all I possessed in the world; and yet now a barrier, far more insurmountable than time and space, intervened between us; still it seemed as though fortune had presented this incident as a last farewell between us. Why should I not take advantage of it? Why should I not seize the only opportunity that might ever occur of rescuing myself from the apparent load of ingratitude which weighed on my memory? I felt in the cold despair of my heart that I could have no hold upon her affection; but a pride, scarce less strong that the attachment that gave rise to it, urged me to speak. By one violent effort I summoned up my courage; and while I resolved to limit the few words I should say merely to my vindication, I prepared to advance. Just at this instant, however, a shadow crossed the path; a rustling sound was heard among the branches, and the tall figure of a man in a dragoon cloak stood before me. Lucy turned suddenly at the sound; but scarcely had her eyes been bent in the direction, when, throwing off his cloak, he sprang forward and dropped at her feet. All my feeling of shame at the part I was performing was now succeeded by a sense of savage and revengeful hatred. It was enough that I should be brought to look upon her whom I had lost forever without the added bitterness of witnessing her preference for a rival. The whirlwind passion of my brain stunned and stupefied me. Unconsciously I drew my sword from my scabbard, and it was only as the pale light fell upon the keen blade that the thought flashed across me, "What could I mean to do?"

"No, Hammersley,"—it was he indeed,—said she, "it is unkind, it is unfair, nay, it is unmanly to press me thus; I would not pain you, were it not that, in sparing you now, I should entail deeper injury upon you hereafter. Ask me to be your sister, your friend; ask me to feel proudly in your triumphs, to glory in your success; all this I do feel; but, oh! I beseech you, as you value your happiness, as you prize mine, ask me no more than this."

There was a pause of some seconds; and at length, the low tones of a man's voice, broken and uncertain in their utterance, said,—

"I know it—I feel it—my heart never bade me hope—and now—'tis over."

He stood up as he spoke, and while he threw the light folds of his mantle round him, a gleam of light fell upon his features. They were pale as death; two dark circles surrounded his sunken eyes, and his bloodless lip looked still more ghastly, from the dark mustache that drooped above it.

"Farewell!" said he, slowly, as he crossed his arms sadly upon his breast; "I will not pain you more."

"Oh, go not thus from me!" said she, as her voice became tremulous with emotion; "do not add to the sorrow that weighs upon my heart! I cannot, indeed I cannot, be other than I am; and I do but hate myself to think that I cannot give my love where I have given all my esteem. If time—" But before she could continue further, the noise of approaching footsteps was heard, and the voice of Sir George, as he came near. Hammersley disappeared at once, and Lucy, with rapid steps, advanced to meet her father, while I remained riveted upon the spot. What a torrent of emotions then rushed upon my heart! What hopes, long dead or dying, sprang up to life again! What visions of long-abandoned happiness flitted before me! Could it be then—dare I trust myself to think it—that Lucy cared for me? The thought was maddening! With a bounding sense of ecstasy, I dashed across the park, resolving, at all hazards, to risk everything upon the chance, and wait the next morning upon Sir George Dashwood. As I thought thus, I reached my hotel, where I found Mike in waiting with a letter. As I walked towards the lamp in the porte cochere, my eyes fell upon the address. It was General Dashwood's hand; I tore it open, and read as follows:—

Dear Sir,—Circumstances into which you will excuse me entering, having placed an insurmountable barrier to our former terms of intimacy, you will, I trust, excuse me declining the honor of any nearer acquaintance, and also forgive the liberty I take in informing you of it, which step, however unpleasant to my feelings, will save us both the great pain of meeting.

I have only this moment heard of your arrival in Brussels, and take thus the earliest opportunity of communicating with you. With every assurance of my respect for you personally, and an earnest desire to serve you in your military career, I beg to remain,

Very faithfully yours,

GEORGE DASHWOOD

"Another note, sir," said Mike, as he thrust into my unconscious hands a letter he had just received from an orderly.

Stunned, half stupefied, I broke the seal. The contents were but three lines:—

Sir,—I have the honor to inform you that Sir Thomas Picton has appointed you an extra aide-de-camp on his personal staff. You will, therefore, present yourself to-morrow morning at the Adjutant-General's office, to receive your appointment and instructions. I have the honor to be, etc.,

G. FITZROY.

Crushing the two letters in my fevered hand, I retired to my room, and threw myself, dressed as I was, upon my bed. Sleep, that seems to visit us in the saddest as in the happiest times of our existence, came over me, and I did not wake until the bugles of the Ninety-fifth were sounding the reveille through the park, and the brightest beams of the morning sun were peering through the window.



CHAPTER L.

AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE.

"Mr. O'Malley," said a voice, as my door opened, and an officer in undress entered,—"Mr. O'Malley, I believe you received your appointment last night on General Picton's staff?"

I bowed in reply, as he resumed:—

"Sir Thomas desires you will proceed to Courtrai with these despatches in all haste. I don't know if you are well mounted, but I recommend you, in any case, not to spare your cattle."

So saying, he wished me a good-morning, and left me, in a state of no small doubt and difficulty, to my own reflections. What the deuce was I to do? I had no horse; I knew not where to find one. What uniform should I wear? For, although appointed on the staff, I was not gazetted to any regiment that I knew of, and hitherto had been wearing an undress frock and a foraging cap; for I could not bring myself to appear as a civilian among so many military acquaintances. No time was, however, to be lost; so I proceeded to put on my old Fourteenth uniform, wondering whether my costume might not cost me a reprimand in the very outset of my career. Meanwhile I despatched Mike to see after a horse, caring little for the time, the merits, or the price of the animal provided he served my present purpose.

In less than twenty minutes my worthy follower appeared beneath my window, surrounded by a considerable mob, who seemed to take no small interest in the proceedings.

"What the deuce is the matter?" cried I, as I opened the sash and looked out.

"Mighty little's the matter, your honor; it's the savages, here, that's admiring my horsemanship," said Mike, as he belabored a tall, scraggy-looking mule with a stick which bore an uncommon resemblance to a broom-handle.

"What do you mean to do with that beast?" said I. "You surely don't expect me to ride a mule to Courtrai?"

"Faith, and if you don't, you are likely to walk the journey; for there isn't a horse to be had for love or money in the town; but I am told that Mr. Marsden is coming up to-morrow with plenty, so that you may as well take the journey out of the soft horns as spoil a better; and if he only makes as good use of his fore-legs as he does of his hind ones, he'll think little of the road."



A vicious lash out behind served in a moment to corroborate Mike's assertion, and to scatter the crowd on every side.

However indisposed to exhibit myself with such a turn-out, my time did not admit of any delay; and so, arming myself with my despatches, and having procured the necessary information as to the road, I set out from the Belle Vue, amidst an ill-suppressed titter of merriment from the mob, which nothing but fear of Mike and his broomstick prevented becoming a regular shout of laughter.

It was near night-fall as, tired and weary of the road, I entered the little village of Halle. All was silent and noiseless in the deserted streets; nor a lamp threw its glare upon the pavement, nor even a solitary candle flickered through the casement. Unlike a town, garrisoned by troops, neither sentry nor outpost was to be met with; nothing gave evidence that the place was held by a large body of men; and I could not help feeling struck, as the footsteps of my mule were echoed along the causeway, with the silence almost of desolation around me. By the creaking of a sign, as it swung mournfully to and fro, I was directed to the door of the village inn, where, dismounting, I knocked for some moments, but without success. At length, when I had made an uproar sufficient to alarm the entire village, the casement above the door slowly opened, and a head enveloped in a huge cotton nightcap—so, at least, it appeared to me from the size—protruded itself. After muttering a curse in about the most barbarous French I ever heard, he asked me what I wanted there; to which I replied, most nationally, by asking in return, where the British dragoons were quartered.

"They have left for Nivelle this morning, to join some regiments of your own country."

"Ah! ah!" thought I, "he mistakes me for a Brunswicker;" to which, by the uncertain light, my uniform gave me some resemblance. As it was now impossible for me to proceed farther, I begged to ask where I could procure accommodation for the night.

"At the burgomaster's. Turn to your left at the end of this street, and you will soon find it. They have got some English officers there, who, I believe in my soul, never sleep."

This was, at least, pleasant intelligence, and promised a better termination to my journey than I had begun to hope for; so wishing my friend a good-night, to which he willingly responded, I resumed my way down the street. As he closed the window, once more leaving me to my own reflections, I began to wonder within myself to what arm of the service belonged these officers to whose convivial gifts he bore testimony. As I turned the corner of the street, I soon discovered the correctness of his information. A broad glare of light stretched across the entire pavement from a large house with a clumsy stone portico before it. On coming nearer, the sound of voices, the roar of laughter, the shouts of merriment that issued forth, plainly bespoke that a jovial party were seated within. The half-shutter which closed the lower part of the windows prevented my obtaining a view of the proceedings; but having cautiously approached the casement, I managed to creep on the window-sill and look into the room.



There the scene was certainly a curious one. Around a large table sat a party of some twenty persons, the singularity of whose appearance may be conjectured when I mention that all those who appeared to be British officers were dressed in the robes of the echevins (or aldermen) of the village; while some others, whose looks bespoke them as sturdy Flemings, sported the cocked hats and cavalry helmets of their associates. He who appeared the ruler of the feast sat with his back towards me, and wore, in addition to the dress of burgomaster, a herald's tabard, which gave him something the air of a grotesque screen at its potations. A huge fire blazed upon the ample hearth, before which were spread several staff uniforms, whose drabbled and soaked appearance denoted the reason of the party's change of habiliments. Every imaginable species of drinking-vessel figured upon the board, from the rich flagon of chased silver to the humble cruche we see in a Teniers picture. As well as I could hear, the language of the company seemed to be French, or, at least, such an imitation of that language as served as a species of neutral territory for both parties to meet in.

He of the tabard spoke louder than the others, and although, from the execrable endeavors he made to express himself in French, his natural voice was much altered, there was yet something in his accents which seemed perfectly familiar to me.

"Mosheer l'Abbey," said he, placing his arm familiarly on the shoulder of a portly personage, whose shaven crown strangely contrasted with a pair of corked moustachios,—"Mosheer l'Abbey, nous sommes freres, et moi, savez-vous, suis eveque,—'pon my life it's true; I might have been Bishop of Saragossa, if I only consented to leave the Twenty-third. Je suis bong Catholique. Lord bless you, if you saw how I loved the nunneries in Spain! J'ai tres jolly souvenirs of those nunneries; a goodly company of little silver saints; and this waistcoat you see—mong gilet—was a satin petticoat of our Lady of Loretto."

Need I say, that before this speech was concluded, I had recognized in the speaker nobody but that inveterate old villain, Monsoon himself.

"Permettez, votre Excellence," said a hale, jolly-looking personage on his left, as he filled the major's goblet with obsequious politeness.

"Bong engfong," replied Monsoon, tapping him familiarly on the head. "Burgomaster, you are a trump; and when I get my promotion, I'll make you prefect in a wine district. Pass the lush, and don't look sleepy! 'Drowsiness,' says Solomon, 'clothes a man in rags;' and no man knew the world better than Solomon. Don't you be laughing, you raw boys. Never mind them, Abbey; ils sont petits garcongs—fags from Eton and Harrow; better judges of mutton broth than sherry negus."

"I say, Major, you are forgetting this song you promised us."

"Yes, yes," said several voices together; "the song, Major! the song!"

"Time enough for that; we're doing very well as it is. Upon my life, though, they hold a deal of wine. I thought we'd have had them fit to bargain with before ten, and see, it's near midnight; and I must have my forage accounts ready for the commissary-general by to-morrow morning."

This speech having informed me the reason of the Major's presence there, I resolved to wait no longer a mere spectator of their proceedings; so dismounting from my position, I commenced a vigorous attack upon the door.

It was some time before I was heard; but at length the door was opened, and I was accosted by an Englishman, who, in a strange compound of French and English, asked, "What the devil I meant by all that uproar?" Determining to startle my old friend the major, I replied, that "I was aide-de-camp to General Picton, and had come down on very unpleasant business." By this time the noise of the party within had completely subsided, and from a few whispered sentences, and their thickened breathing, I perceived that they were listening.

"May I ask, sir," continued I, "if Major Monsoon is here?"

"Yes," stammered out the ensign, for such he was.

"Sorry for it, for his sake," said I; "but my orders are peremptory."

A deep groan from within, and a muttered request to pass down the sherry, nearly overcame my gravity; but I resumed:—

"If you will permit me, I will make the affair as short as possible. The major, I presume, is here?"

So saying, I pushed forward into the room, where now a slight scuffling noise and murmur of voices had succeeded silence. Brief as was the interval of our colloquy, the scene within had, notwithstanding, undergone considerable change. The English officers, hastily throwing off their aldermanic robes, were busily arraying themselves in their uniforms, while Monsoon himself, with a huge basin of water before him, was endeavoring to wash the cork from his countenance in the corner of his tabard.

"Very hard upon me, all this; upon my life, so it is! Picton is always at me, just as if we had not been school-fellows. The service is getting worse every day. Regardez-moi, Curey, mong face est propre? Eh? There, thank you. Good fellow the Curey is, but takes a deal of fluid. Oh, Burgomaster! I fear it is all up with me! No more fun, no more jollification, no more plunder—and how I did do it. Nothing like watching one's little chances! 'The poor is hated even by his neighbor.' Oui, Curey, it is Solomon says that, and they must have had a heavy poor-rate in his day to make him say so. Another glass of sherry!"

By this time I approached the back of the chair, and slapping him heartily on the shoulder, called out,—

"Major, old boy, how goes it?"

"Eh?—what—how!—who is this? It can't be—egad, sure it is, though. Charley! Charley O'Malley, you scapegrace, where have you been? When did you join?"

"A week ago, Major. I could resist it no longer. I did my best to be a country gentleman, and behave respectably, but the old temptation was too strong for me. Fred Power and yourself, Major, had ruined my education; and here I am once more among you."

"And so Picton and the arrest and all that, was nothing but a joke?" said the old fellow, rolling his wicked eyes with a most cunning expression.

"Nothing more, Major, set your heart at rest."

"What a scamp you are," said he, with another grin. "Il est mon fils—il est mon fils, Curey," presenting me, as he spoke, while the burgomaster, in whose eyes the major seemed no inconsiderable personage, saluted me with profound respect.

Turning at once towards this functionary, I explained that I was the bearer of important despatches, and that my horse—I was ashamed to say my mule—having fallen lame, I was unable to proceed.

"Can you procure me a remount, Monsieur?" said I, "for I must hasten on to Courtrai."

"In half an hour you shall be provided, as well as with a mounted guide for the road. Le fils de son Excellence," said he, with emphasis, bowing to the major as he spoke; who, in his turn, repaid the courtesy with a still lower obeisance.

"Sit down, Charley; here is a clean glass. I am delighted to see you, my boy! They tell me you have got a capital estate and plenty of ready. Lord, we so wanted you, as there's scarcely a fellow with sixpence among us. Give me the lad that can do a bit of paper at three months, and always be ready for a renewal. You haven't got a twenty-pound note?" This was said sotto voce. "Never mind; ten will do. You can give me the remainder at Brussels. Strange, is it not, I have not seen a bit of clean bank paper like this for above a twelvemonth!" This was said as he thrust his hand into his pocket, with one of those peculiar leers upon his countenance which, unfortunately, betrayed more satisfaction at his success than gratitude for the service. "You are looking fat—too fat, I think," said he, scrutinizing me from head to foot; "but the life we are leading just now will soon take that off. The slave-trade is luxurious indolence compared to it. Post haste to Nivelle one day; down to Ghent the next; forty miles over a paved road in a hand-gallop, and an aide-de-camp with a watch in his hand at the end of it, to report if you are ten minutes too late. And there is Wellington has his eye everywhere. There is not a truss of hay served to the cavalry, nor a pair of shoes half-soled in the regiment, that he don't know of it. I've got it over the knuckles already."

"How so, Major? How was that?"

"Why, he ordered me to picket two squadrons of the Seventh, and a supper was waiting. I didn't like to leave my quarters, so I took up my telescope and pitched upon a sweet little spot of ground on a hill; rather difficult to get up, to be sure, but a beautiful view when you're on it. 'There is your ground, Captain,' said I, as I sent one of my people to mark the spot. He did not like it much; however, he was obliged to go. And, would you believe it?—so much for bad luck!—there turned out to be no water within two miles of it—not a drop, Charley; and so, about eleven at night, the two squadrons moved down into Grammont to wet their lips, and what is worse, to report me to the commanding officer. And only think! They put me under arrest because Providence did not make a river run up a mountain!"

Just as the major finished speaking, the distant clatter of horses' feet and the clank of cavalry was heard approaching. We all rushed eagerly to the door; and scarcely had we done so, when a squadron of dragoons came riding up the street at a fast trot.

"I say, good people," cried the officer, in French, "where does the burgomaster live here?"

"Fred Power, 'pon my life!" shouted the major.

"Eh, Monsoon, that you? Give me a tumbler of wine, old boy; you are sure to have some, and I am desperately blown."

"Get down, Fred, get down! We have an old friend here."

"Who the deuce d'ye mean?" said he, as throwing himself from the saddle he strode into the room. "Charley O'Malley, by all that's glorious!"

"Fred, my gallant fellow!" said I.

"It was but this morning, Charley, that I so wished for you here. The French are advancing, my lad. They have crossed the frontier; Zeithen's corps have been attacked and driven in; Blucher is falling back upon Ligny; and the campaign is opened. But I must press forward. The regiment is close behind me, and we are ordered to push for Brussels in all haste."

"Then these despatches," said I, showing my packet, "'tis unnecessary to proceed with?"

"Quite so. Get into the saddle and come back with us."

The burgomaster had kept his word with me; so mounted upon a strong hackney, I set out with Power on the road to Brussels. I have had occasion more than once to ask pardon of my reader for the prolixity of my narrative, so I shall not trespass on him here by the detail of our conversation as we jogged along. Of me and my adventures he already knows enough—perhaps too much. My friend Power's career, abounding as it did in striking incidents, and all the light and shadow of a soldier's life, yet not bearing upon any of the characters I have presented to your acquaintance, except in one instance,—of that only shall I speak.

"And the senhora, Fred; how goes your fortune in that quarter?"

"Gloriously, Charley! I am every day expecting the promotion in my regiment which is to make her mine."

"You have heard from her lately, then?"

"Heard from her! Why, man, she is in Brussels."

"In Brussels?"

"To be sure. Don Emanuel is in high favor with the duke, and is now commissary-general with the army; and the senhora is the belle of the Rue Royale, or at least, it's a divided sovereignty between her and Lucy Dashwood. And now, Charley, let me ask, what of her? There, there, don't blush, man. There is quite enough moonlight to show how tender you are in that quarter."

"Once for all, Fred, pray spare me on that subject. You have been far too fortunate in your affaire de coeur, and I too much the reverse, to permit much sympathy between us."

"Do you not visit, then; or is it a cut between you?" "I have never met her since the night of the masquerade of the villa—at least, to speak to—"

"Well, I must confess, you seem to manage your own affairs much worse than your friends'; not but that in so doing you are exhibiting a very Irish feature of your character. In any case, you will come to the ball? Inez will be delighted to see you; and I have got over all my jealousy."

"What ball? I never heard of it."

"Never heard of it! Why, the Duchess of Richmond's, of course. Pooh, pooh, man! Not invited?—of course you are invited; the staff are never left out on such occasions. You will find your card at your hotel on your return."

"In any case, Fred—"

"I shall insist upon your going. I have no arriere pensee about a reconciliation with the Dashwoods, no subtle scheme, on my honor; but simply I feel that you will never give yourself fair chances in the world, by indulging your habit of shrinking from every embarrassment. Don't be offended, boy. I know you have pluck enough to storm a battery; I have seen you under fire before now. What avails your courage in the field, if you have not presence of mind in the drawing-room? Besides, everything else out of the question, it is a breach of etiquette towards your chief to decline such an invitation."

"You think so?"

"Think so?—no; I am sure of it."

"Then, as to uniform, Fred?"

"Oh, as to that, easily managed. And now I think of it, they have sent me an unattached uniform, which you can have; but remember, my boy, if I put you in my coat, I don't want you to stand in my shoes. Don't forget also that I am your debtor in horseflesh, and fortunately able to repay you. I have got such a charger; your own favorite color, dark chestnut, and except one white leg, not a spot about him; can carry sixteen stone over a five-foot fence, and as steady as a rock under fire."

"But, Fred, how are you—"

"Oh, never mind me; I have six in my stable, and intend to share with you. The fact is, I have been transferred from one staff to another for the last six months, and four of my number are presents. Is Mike with you? Ah, glad to hear it; you will never get on without that fellow. Besides, it is a capital thing to have such a connecting link with one's nationality. No fear of your ever forgetting Ireland with Mr. Free in your company. You are not aware that we have been correspondents. A fact, I assure you. Mike wrote me two letters; and such letters they were! The last was a Jeremiad over your decline and fall, with a very ominous picture of a certain Miss Baby Blake."

"Confound the rascal!"

"By Jove, though, Charley, you were coming it rather strong with Baby. Inez saw the letter, and as well as she could decipher Mike's hieroglyphics, saw there was something in it; but the name Baby puzzled her immensely, and she set the whole thing down to your great love of children. I don't think that Lucy quite agreed with her."

"Did she tell it to Miss Dashwood?" I inquired, with fear and trembling.

"Oh, that she did; in fact, Inez never ceases talking of you to Lucy. But come, lad, don't look so grave. Let's have another brush with the enemy; capture a battery of their guns; carry off a French marshal or two; get the Bath for your services, and be thanked in general orders,—and I will wager all my chateau en Espagne that everything goes well."

Thus chatting away, sometimes over the past, of our former friends and gay companions, of our days of storm and sunshine; sometimes indulging in prospects for the future, we trotted along, and as the day was breaking, mounted the ridge of low hills, from whence, at the distance of a couple of leagues, the city of Brussels came into view.



CHAPTER LI.

THE DUCHESS OF RICHMOND'S BALL.

Whether we regard the illustrious and distinguished personages who thronged around, or we think of the portentous moment in which it was given, the Duchess of Richmond's ball, on the night of the 15th of June, 1815, was not only one of the most memorable, but, in its interest, the most exciting entertainment that the memory of any one now living can compass.

There is always something of no common interest in seeing the bronzed and war-worn soldier mixing in the crowd of light-hearted and brilliant beauty. To watch the eye whose proud glance has flashed over the mail-clad squadrons now bending meekly beneath the look of some timid girl; to hear the voice that, high above the battle or the breeze, has shouted the hoarse word "Charge!" now subdued into the low, soft murmur of flattery or compliment. This, at any rate, is a picture full of its own charm; but when we see these heroes of a hundred fights; when we look upon these hardy veterans, upon whose worn brows the whitened locks of time are telling, indulging themselves in the careless gayety of a moment, snatched as it were from the arduous career of their existence, while the tramp of the advancing enemy shakes the very soil they stand on, and where it may be doubted whether each aide-de-camp who enters comes a new votary of pleasure or the bearer of tidings that the troops of the foe are advancing, and already the work of death has begun: this is, indeed, a scene to make the heart throb, and the pulse beat high; this is a moment second in its proud excitement only to the very crash and din of battle itself. And into this entrancing whirlwind of passion and of pleasure, of brilliant beauty and ennobled greatness, of all that is lovely in woman and all that is chivalrous and heroic in man, I brought a heart which, young in years, was yet tempered by disappointment; still, such was the fascination, such the brilliancy of the spectacle, that scarcely had I entered, than I felt a change come over me,—the old spirit of my boyish ardor, that high-wrought enthusiasm to do something, to be something which men may speak of, shot suddenly through me, and I felt my cheek tingle and my temples throb, as name after name of starred and titled officers were announced, to think that to me, also, the path of glorious enterprise was opening.

"Come along, come along," said Power, catching me by the arm, "you've not been presented to the duchess. I know her. I'll do it for you; or perhaps it is better Sir Thomas Picton should. In any case, filez after me, for the dark-eyed senhora is surely expecting us. There, do you see that dark, intelligent-looking fellow leaning over the end of the sofa? That is Alava. And there, you know who that is, that beau ideal of a hussar? Look how jauntily he carries himself; see the careless but graceful sling with which he edges through the crowd; and look! Mark his bow! Did you see that, Charley? Did you catch the quick glance he shot yonder, and the soft smile that showed his white teeth? Depend upon it, boy, some fair heart is not the better nor the easier for that look."

"Who is it?" said I.

"Lord Uxbridge, to be sure; the handsomest fellow in the service; and there goes Vandeleur, talking with Vivian; the other, to the left, is Ponsonby."

"But stay, Fred, tell me who that is?" For a moment or two, I had some difficulty in directing his attention to the quarter I desired. The individual I pointed out was somewhat above the middle size; his uniform of blue and gold, though singularly plain, had a look of richness about it; besides that, among the orders which covered his breast, he wore one star of great brilliancy and size. This, however, was his least distinction; for although surrounded on every side by those who might be deemed the very types and pictures of their caste, there was something in the easy but upright carriage of his head, the intrepid character of his features, the bold and vigorous flashing of his deep blue eye, that marked him as no common man. He was talking with an old and prosy-looking personage in civilian dress; and while I could detect an anxiety to get free from a tiresome companion, there was an air of deferential, and even kind attention in his manner, absolutely captivating.

"A thorough gentleman, Fred, whoever he be," said I.

"I should think so," replied Power, dryly; "and as our countrymen would say, 'The Devil thank him for it!' That is the Prince of Orange; but see, look at him now, his features have learned another fashion." And true it was; with a smile of the most winning softness, and with a voice, whose slightly foreign accent took nothing from its interest, I heard him engaging a partner for a waltz.

There was a flutter of excitement in the circle as the lady rose to take his arm, and a muttered sound of, "How very beautiful, quelle est belle, c'est un ange!" on all sides. I leaned forward to catch a glance as she passed; it was Lucy Dashwood. Beautiful beyond anything I had ever seen her, her lovely features lit up with pleasure and with pride, she looked in every way worthy to lean upon the arm of royalty. The graceful majesty of her walk, the placid loveliness of her gentle smile, struck every one as she passed on. As for me, totally forgetting all else, not seeing or hearing aught around me, I followed her with my eye until she was lost among the crowd, and then, with an impulse of which I was not master, followed in her steps.

"This way, this way," said Power; "I see the senhora." So saying, we entered a little boudoir, where a party was playing at cards. Leaning on the back of a chair, Inez was endeavoring, with that mixture of coquetry and half malice she possessed, to distract the attention of the player. As Power came near, she scarcely turned her head to give him a kind of saucy smile; while, seeing me, she held out her hand with friendly warmth, and seemed quite happy to meet me.

"Do, pray, take her away; get her to dance, to eat ice, or flirt with you, for Heaven's sake!" said the half-laughing voice of her victim. "I have revoked twice, and misdealt four times since she has been here. Believe me, I shall take it as the greatest favor, if you'll—"

As he got thus far he turned round towards me, and I perceived it was Sir George Dashwood. The meeting was as awkward for him as for me; and while a deep flush covered my face, he muttered some unintelligible apology, and Inez burst into a fit of laughter at the ludicrous contretemps of our situation.

"I will dance with you now, if you like," said she, "and that will be punishing all three. Eh, Master Fred?"

So saying, she took my arm as I led her toward the ball-room.

"And so you really are not friends with the Dashwoods? How very provoking, and how foolish, too! But really, Chevalier, I must say you treat ladies very ill. I don't forget your conduct to me. Dear me, I wish we could move forward, there is some one pushing me dreadfully!"

"Get on, Ma'am, get on!" said a sharp, decided voice behind me. I turned, half smiling, to see the speaker. It was the Duke of Wellington himself, who, with his eye fixed upon some person at a distance, seemed to care very little for any intervening obstruction. As I made way for him to pass between us, he looked hardly at me, while he said in a short, quick way,—

"Know your face very well: how d'ye do?" With this brief recognition he passed on, leaving me to console Inez for her crushed sleeve, by informing her who had done it.

The ball was now at its height. The waltzers whirled past in the wild excitement of the dance. The inspiriting strains of the music, the sounds of laughter, the din, the tumult, all made up that strange medley which, reacting upon the minds of those who cause it, increases the feeling of pleasurable abandonment, making the old feel young, and the young intoxicated with delight.

As the senhora leaned upon me, fatigued with waltzing, I was endeavoring to sustain a conversation with her; while my thoughts were wandering with my eyes to where I had last seen Lucy Dashwood.

"It must be something of importance; I'm sure it is," said she, at the conclusion of a speech of which I had not heard one word. "Look at General Picton's face!"

"Very pretty, indeed," said I; "but the hair is unbecoming," replying to some previous observation she had made, and still lost in a revery. A hearty burst of laughter was her answer as she gently shook my arm, saying,—

"You really are too bad! You've never listened to one word I've been telling you, but keep continually staring with your eyes here and there, turning this way and looking that, and with a dull, vacant, and unmeaning smile, answering at random, in the most provoking manner. There now, pray pay attention, and tell me what that means." As she said this, she pointed with her fan to where a dragoon officer, in splashed and spattered uniform, was standing talking to some three or four general officers. "But here comes the duke; it can't be anything of consequence."

At the same instant the Duke of Wellington passed with the Duchess of Richmond on his arm.

"No, Duchess; nothing to alarm you. Did you say ice?"

"There, you heard that, I hope!" said Inez; "there is nothing to alarm us."

"Go to General Picton at once; but don't let it be remarked," said an officer, in a whisper, as he passed close by me.

"Inez, I have the greatest curiosity to learn what that new arrival has to say for himself; and if you will permit me, I'll leave you with Lady Gordon for one moment—"

"Delighted, of all things. You are without exception, the most tiresome—Good-by."

"Sans adieu," said I, as I hurried through the crowd towards an open window, on the balcony outside of which Sir Thomas Picton was standing.

"Ah, Mr. O'Malley, have you a pencil? There, that'll do. Ride down to Etterbeeck with this order for Godwin. You have heard the news, I suppose, that the French are in advance? The Seventy-ninth will muster in the Grando Place. The Ninety-second and the Twenty-eighth along the Park and the Boulevard. Napoleon left Fresnes this morning. The Prussians have fallen back. Zeithen has been beaten. We march at once."

"To-morrow, sir?"

"No, sir, to-night. There, don't delay! But above all, let everything be done quietly and noiselessly. The duke will remain here for an hour longer to prevent suspicion. When you've executed your orders, come back here."

I mounted the first horse I could find at the door, and galloped with top speed over the heavy causeway to Etterbeeck. In two minutes the drum beat to arms, and the men were mustering as I left. Thence I hastened to the barracks of the Highland Brigade and the 28th Regiment; and before half an hour, was back in the ball-room, where, from the din and tumult, I guessed the scene of pleasure and dissipation continued unabated. As I hurried up the staircase a throng of persons were coming down, and I was obliged to step aside to let them pass.

"Ah, come here, pray," said Picton, who, with a lady cloaked and hooded leaning upon his arm, was struggling to make way through the crowd. "The very man!"

"Will you excuse me if I commit you to the care of my aide-de-camp, who will see you to your carriage? The duke has just desired to see me." This he said in a hurried and excited tone; and the same moment beckoned to me to take the lady's arm.

It was with some difficulty I succeeded in reaching the spot, and had only time to ask whose carriage I should call for, ere we arrived in the hall.

"Sir George Dashwood's," said a low, soft voice, whose accents sank into my very heart. Heaven! it was Lucy herself; it was her arm that leaned on mine, her locks that fluttered beside me, her hand that hung so near, and yet I could not speak. I tried one word; but a choking feeling in my throat prevented utterance, and already we were upon the door-steps.

"Sir George Dashwood's carriage," shouted the footman, and the announcement was repeated by the porter. The steps were hurried down; the footman stood door in hand; and I led her forward, mute and trembling. Did she know me? I assisted her as she stepped in; her hand touched mine: it was the work of a second; to me it was the bliss of years. She leaned a little forward; and as the servant put up the steps, said in her soft, sweet tone, "Thank you, sir. Good-night."

I felt my shoulder touched by some one who, it appeared, was standing close to me for some seconds; but so occupied was I in gazing at her that I paid no attention to the circumstance. The carriage drove away and disappeared in the thick darkness of a starless night. I turned to re-enter the house, and as I did so, the night lamp of the hall fell upon the features of the man beside me, and showed me the pale and corpse-like face of Fred Hammersley. His eye was bent upon me with an expression of fierce and fiery passion, in which the sadness of long-suffering also mingled. His bloodless lips parted, moved as though speaking, while yet no sound issued; and his nostril, dilating and contracting by turns, seemed to denote some deep and hidden emotion that worked within him.

"Hammersley," said I, holding out my hand towards him,—"Hammersley, do not always mistake me?"

He shook his head mournfully as it fell forward upon his breast, and covering his arm, moved slowly away without speaking.

General Picton's voice as he descended the stairs, accompanied by Generals Vandeleur and Vivian, aroused me at once, and I hurried towards him.

"Now, sir, to horse. The troops will defile by the Namur gate, and meet me there in an hour. Meanwhile tell Colonel Cameron that he must march with the light companies of his own and the Ninety-second at once."

"I say, Picton, they'll say we were taken by surprise in England; won't they?" said a sharp, strong voice, in a half-laughing tone from behind.

"No, your Grace," said Sir Thomas, bowing slightly; "they'll scarcely do so when they hear the time we took to get under arms."

I heard no more; but throwing myself into the saddle of my troop horse, once more rode back to the Belle Vue to make ready for the road.

The thin pale crescent of a new moon, across which masses of dark and inky clouds were hurrying, tipped with its faint and sickly light the tall minarets of the Hotel de Ville, as I rode into the Grande Place. Although midnight, the streets were as crowded as at noonday; horse, foot, and dragoons passing and hurrying hither; the wild pibroch of the Highlander; the mellow bugle of the Seventy-first; the hoarse trumpet of the cavalry; the incessant roll of the drum,—mingled their sounds with the tide of human voices, in which every accent was heard, from the reckless cheer of anticipated victory, to the heart-piercing shriek of woman's agony. Lights gleamed from every window; from the doors of almost every house poured forth a crowd of soldiers and townsfolk. The sergeants, on one side, might be seen telling off their men, their cool and steady countenances evidencing no semblance of emotion; while near them some young ensign, whose beardless cheek and vacant smile bespoke the mere boy, looked on with mingled pride and wonder at the wild scene before him. Every now and then some general officer with his staff came cantering past; and as the efforts to muster and form the troops grew more pressing, I could mark how soon we were destined to meet the enemy.

There are few finer monuments of the architecture of the Middle Ages than the Grande Place of Brussels,—the rich facade of the Hotel de Ville, with its long colonnade of graceful arches, upon every keystone of which some grim, grotesque head is peering; the massive cornices; the heavy corbels carved into ten thousand strange and uncouth fancies; but finer than all, the taper and stately spire, fretted and perforated like some piece of silver filigree, stretches upward towards the sky, its airy pinnacle growing finer and more beautiful as it nears the stars it points to. How full of historic associations is every dark embrasure, every narrow casement around! Here may have stood the great emperor, Charles the Fifth, meditating upon that greatness he was about to forego forever; here from this tall window, may have looked the sad and sickly features of Jeanne Laffolle, as with wandering eye and idiot smile she gazed upon the gorgeous procession beneath. There is not a stone that has not echoed to the tread of haughty prince or bold baron; yet never, in the palmiest days of ancient chivalry, did those proud dwellings of the great of old look out upon a braver and more valiant host than now thronged beneath their shadow. It was indeed a splendid sight, where the bright gleams of torch and lantern threw the red light around, to watch the measured tread and steady tramp of the Highland regiments as they defiled into the open space; each footstep as it met the ground, seeming in its proud and firm tread, to move in more than sympathy with the wild notes of their native mountains; silent and still they moved along; no voice spoke within their ranks, save that of some command to "Close up—take ground—to the right—rear rank—close order." Except such brief words as these, or the low muttered praise of some veteran general as he rode down the line, all was orderly and steady as on a parade. Meanwhile, from an angle of the square, the band of an approaching regiment was heard; and to the inspiriting quickness of "The Young May Moon," the gallant Twenty-eighth came forward and took up their ground opposite to the Highlanders.

The deep bell of the Hotel de Ville tolled one. The solemn sound rang out and died away in many an echo, leaving upon the heart a sense of some unknown depression; and there was something like a knell in the deep cadence of its bay; and over many a cheek a rapid trace of gloomy thought now passed; and true—too true, alas!—how many now listened for the last time!

"March! march!" passed from front to rear; and as the bands burst forth again in streams of spirit-stirring harmony, the Seventy-ninth moved on; the Twenty-eighth followed; and as they debouched from the "Place" the Seventy-first and the Ninety-second succeeded them. Like wave after wave, the tide of armed men pressed on, and mounted the steep and narrow street towards the upper town of Brussels. Here Pack's Brigade was forming in the Place Royale; and a crowd of staff officers dictating orders, and writing hurriedly on the drum-heads, were also seen. A troop of dragoons stood beside their horses at the door of the Belle Vue, and several grooms with led horses walked to and fro.

"Ride forward, sir, to the Bois de Cambre," said Picton, "and pivot the troops on the road to Mont St. Jean. You will then wait for my coming up, or further orders."

This command, which was given to me, I hastened to obey; and with difficulty forcing my way through the opposing crowd, at length reached the Namur gate. Here I found a detachment of the Guards, who as yet had got no orders to march, and were somewhat surprised to learn the forward movement. Ten minutes' riding brought me to the angle of the wood, whence I wrote a few lines to my host of the Belle Vue, desiring him to send Mike after me with my horses and my kit. The night was cold, dark, and threatening; the wind howled with a low and wailing cry through the dark pine-trees; and as I stood alone and in solitude, I had time to think of the eventful hours before me, and of that field which ere long was to witness the triumph or the downfall of my country's arms. The road which led through the forest of Soignies caught an additional gloom from the dark, dense woods around. The faint moon only showed at intervals; and a lowering sky, without a single star, stretched above us. It was an awful and a solemn thing to hear the deep and thundering roll of that mighty column, awakening the echoes of the silent forest as they went. So hurried was the movement that we had scarcely any artillery, and that of the lightest calibre; but the clash and clank of the cavalry, the heavy, monotonous tramp of infantry were there; and as division followed after division, staff officers rode hurriedly to and fro, pressing the eager troops still on.

"Move up there, Ninety-fifth. Ah, Forty-second, we've work before us!" said Picton, as he rode up to the head of his brigade. The air of depression which usually sat upon his careworn features now changed for a light and laughing look, while his voice was softened and subdued into a low and pleasing tone. Although it was midsummer, the roads were heavy and deep with mud. For some weeks previously the weather had been rainy; and this, added to the haste and discomfort of the night march, considerably increased the fatigue of the troops. Notwithstanding these disadvantages, not a murmur nor complaint was heard on any side.

"I'm unco glad to get a blink o' them, onyhow," said a tall, raw-boned sergeant, who marched beside me.

"Faith, and may be you won't be over pleased at the expression of their faces, when you see them," said Mike, whose satisfaction at the prospect before him was still as great as that of any other amidst the thousands there.

The day was slowly breaking, as a Prussian officer, splashed and covered with foam, came galloping up at full speed past us. While I was yet conjecturing what might be the intelligence he brought, Power rode up to my side.

"We're in for it, Charley," said he. "The whole French army are in march; and Blucher's aide-de-camp, who has arrived, gives the number at one hundred and fifty thousand men. The Prussians are drawn up between St. Amand and Sombref, and the Nassau and Dutch troops are at Quatre Bras, both expecting to be attacked."

"Quatre Bras was the original rallying spot for our troops, was it not?" said I.

"Yes, yes. It is that we're now marching upon; but our Prussian friend seems to think we shall arrive too late. Strong French corps are already at Fresnes, under the command, it is said, of Marshal Ney."

The great object of the British commander-in-chief was to arrive at Quatre Bras in sufficient time to effect his junction with Blucher before a battle should be fought. To effect this no exertion was spared: efforts almost super-human were made; for, however prepared for a forward movement, it was impossible to have anticipated anything until the intentions of Napoleon became clearly manifest. While Nivelles and Charleroi were exposed to him on one side, Namur lay open on the other; and he could either march upon Brussels, by Mons or Halle, or, as he subsequently attempted, by Quatre Bras and Waterloo. No sooner, however, were his intentions unmasked, and the line of his operations manifested, than Lord Wellington, with an energy equal to the mighty occasion that demanded it, poured down with the whole force under his command to meet him.

The march was a most distressing one; upward of three-and-twenty miles, with deep and cut-up roads, in hot, oppressive weather, in a country almost destitute of water. Still the troops pressed forward, and by noon came within hearing of the heavy cannonade in front, which indicated the situation of the battle. From this time aide-de-camp followed aide-de-camp in quick succession, who, from their scared looks and hurried gestures, seemed to bode but ill-fortune to the cause we cared for. What the precise situation of the rival armies might be we knew not; but we heard the French were in overwhelming numbers; that the Dutch troops had abandoned their position; the Hanoverians being driven back, the Duke of Brunswick—the brave sovereign of a gallant people—fell charging at the head of his black hussars. From one phrase which constantly met our ears, it seemed that the Bois de Bossu was the key of the position. This had been won and lost repeatedly by both sides; and as we neared the battle-field a despatch hurriedly announced to Picton the importance of at once recovering this contested point. The Ninety-fifth were ordered up to the attack. Scarcely was the word given, when fatigue, thirst, and exhaustion were forgotten; with one cheer the gallant regiment formed into line, and advanced upon the wood. Meanwhile the Highland Brigade moved down towards the right; the Royals and the Twenty-eighth debouched upon the left of the road; and in less than half an hour after our arrival our whole force was in action.

There is something appalling, to the bravest army, in coming up to battle at the time that an overwhelming and conquering foe are carrying victory triumphantly before them: such was our position at Quatre Bras. Bravely and gloriously as the forces of the Prince of Orange fought, the day, however, was not theirs. The Bois de Bossu, which opened to the enemy the road to Brussels, was held by their tirailleurs; the valley to the right was rode over by their mounted squadrons, who with lance and sabre carried all before them; their dark columns pressed steadily on; and a death-dealing artillery swept the allied ranks from flank to flank. Such was the field when the British arrived, and throwing themselves into squares, opposed their unaided force to the dreadful charges of the enemy. The batteries showered down their storms of grape; Milhaud's Heavy Dragoons, assisted by crowds of lancers, rushed upon the squares, but they stood unbroken and undaunted, as sometimes upon three sides of their position the infuriated horsemen of the enemy came down. Once, and once only, were the French successful; the 42d, who were stationed amidst tall corn-fields, were surrounded with cavalry before they knew it. The word was given to form square; the Lancers were already among them, and fighting back to back, the gallant Highlanders met the foe. Fresh numbers poured down upon them, and already half the regiment was disabled and their colonel killed. These brave fellows were rescued by the 44th, who, throwing in a withering volley, fixed bayonets and charged. Meanwhile the 95th had won and lost the wood, which, now in the possession of the French tirailleurs, threatened to turn the left of our position. It was at this time that a body of cavalry were seen standing to the left of the Enghien road, as if in observation. An officer sent forward to reconnoitre, returned with the intelligence that they were British troops, for he had seen their red uniforms.

"I can't think it, sir," said Picton. "It is hardly possible that any regiment from Enghien could have arrived already. Ride forward, O'Malley, and if they be our fellows, let them carry that height yonder; there are two guns there cutting the 92d to pieces."

I put spurs to my horse, cleared the road at once, and dashing across the open space to the left of the wood, rode on in the direction of the horsemen. When I came within the distance of three hundred yards I examined them with my glass, and could plainly detect the scarlet coats and bright helmets. "Ha," thought I, "the 1st Dragoon Guards, no doubt." Muttering to myself thus much, I galloped straight on; and waving my hand as I came near, announced that I was the bearer of an order. Scarcely had I done so, when four horsemen, dashing spurs into their steeds, plunged hastily out from the line, and before I could speak, surrounded me. While the foremost called out, as he flourished his sabre above his head, "Rendez-vous!" At the same moment I was seized on each side, and led back a captive into the hands of the enemy.

"We guess your mistake, Capitaine," said the French officer before whom I was brought. "We are the regiment of Berg, and our scarlet uniform cost us dearly enough yesterday."

This allusion, I afterwards learned, was in reference to a charge by a cuirassier regiment, which, in mistaking them for English, poured a volley into them, and killed and wounded about twenty of their number.



CHAPTER LII.

QUATRE BRAS.

Those who have visited the field of Quatre Bras will remember that on the left of the high road, and nearly at the extremity of the Bois de Bossu, stands a large Flemish farm-house, whose high pitched roof, pointed gables, and quaint, old-fashioned chimneys, remind one of the architecture so frequently seen in Tenier's pictures. The house, which, with its dependencies of stables, granaries, and out-houses, resembles a little village, is surrounded by a large, straggling orchard of aged fruit-trees, through which the approach from the high road leads. The interior of this quaint dwelling, like all those of its class, is only remarkable for a succession of small, dark, low-ceiled rooms, leading one into another; their gloomy aspect increased by the dark oak furniture, the heavy armories, and old-fashioned presses, carved in the grotesque taste of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. Those who visit it now may mark the trace of cannon-shot here and there through the building; more than one deep crack will attest the force of the dread artillery. Still the traveller will feel struck with the rural peace and quietude of the scene; the speckled oxen that stand lowing in the deep meadows; the splash of the silvery trout as he sports in the bright stream that ripples along over its gravelly bed; the cawing of the old rooks in the tall beech-trees; but more than all, the happy laugh of children,—speak of the spot as one of retired and tranquil beauty; yet when my eyes opened upon it on the morning of the 17th of June, the scene presented features of a widely different interest. The day was breaking as the deep, full sound of the French bugles announced the reveille. Forgetful of where I was, I sprang from my bed and rushed to the window; the prospect before me at once recalled me to my recollection, and I remembered that I was a prisoner. The exciting events around left me but little time and as little inclination to think over my old misfortunes; and I watched, with all the interest of a soldier, the movement of the French troops in the orchard beneath. A squadron of dragoons, who seemed to have passed the night beside their horses, lay stretched or seated in all the picturesque groupings of a bivouac,—some already up and stirring; others leaned half listlessly upon their elbows, and looked about as if unwilling to believe the night was over; and some, stretched in deep slumber, woke not with the noise and tumult around them. The room in which I was confined looked out upon the road to Charleroi; I could therefore see the British troops; and as the French army had fallen back during the night, only an advanced guard maintaining the position, I was left to my unaided conjectures as to the fortune of the preceding day of battle. What a period of anxiety and agitation was that morning to me; what would I not have given to learn the result of the action since the moment of my capture! Stubborn as our resistance had been, we were evidently getting the worst, of it; and if the Guards had not arrived in time, I knew we must have been beaten.

I walked up and down my narrow room, tortured and agonized by my doubts, now stopping to reason over the possibilities of success, now looking from the window to try if, in the gesture and bearing of those without, I could conjecture anything that passed. Too well I knew the vaunting character of the French soldier, in defeat as in victory, to put much confidence in their bearing. While, however, I watched them with an eager eye, I heard the tramp of horsemen coming along the paved causeway. From the moment my ear caught the sound to that of their arrival at the gate of the orchard, but few minutes elapsed; their pace was indeed a severe one, and as they galloped through the narrow path that led to the farm-house, they never drew rein till they reached the porch. The party consisted of about a dozen persons whose plumed hats bespoke them staff officers; but their uniforms were concealed beneath their great-coats. As they came along the picket sprang to their feet, and the guard at the door beneath presented arms. This left no doubt upon my mind that some officer of rank was among them, and as I knew that Ney himself commanded on the preceding day, I thought it might be he. The sound of voices beneath informed me that the party occupied the room under that in which I was, and although I listened attentively I could hear nothing but the confused murmur of persons conversing together without detecting even a word. My thoughts now fell into another channel, and as I ruminated over my old position, I heard the noise of the sentry at my door as he brought his musket to the shoulder, and the next moment an officer in the uniform of the Chasseurs of the Guard entered. Bowing politely as he advanced to the middle of the room, he addressed me thus:—

"You speak French, sir?" and as I replied in the affirmative, continued:—

"Will you, then, have the goodness to follow me this way?"

Although burning with anxiety to learn what had taken place, yet somehow I could not bring myself to ask the question. A secret pride mingled with my fear that all had not gone well with us, and I durst not expose myself to hear of our defeat from the lips of an enemy. I had barely time to ask into whose presence I was about to be ushered, when with a slight smile of a strange meaning, he opened the door and introduced me into the saloon. Although I had seen at least twelve or fourteen horsemen arrive, there were but three persons in the room as I entered. One of these, who sat writing at a small table near the window, never lifted his head on my entrance, but continued assiduously his occupation. Another, a tall, fine-looking man of some sixty years or upward, whose high, bald forehead and drooping mustache, white as snow, looked in every way the old soldier of the empire, stood leaning upon his sabre; while the third, whose stature, somewhat below the middle size, was yet cast in a strong and muscular mould, stood with his back to the fire, holding on his arms the skirts of a gray surtout which he wore over his uniform; his legs were cased in the tall bottes a l'ecuyere worn by the chasseur a cheval, and on his head a low cocked hat, without plume or feather, completed his costume. There was something which, at the very moment of my entrance, struck me as uncommon in his air and bearing, so much so that when my eyes had once rested on his pale but placid countenance, his regular, handsome, but somewhat stern features, I totally forgot the presence of the others and looked only at him.

"What's your rank, sir?" said he, hurriedly, and with a tone which bespoke command.

"I have none at present, save—"

"Why do you wear your epaulettes then, sir?" said he, harshly, while from his impatient look, and hurried gesture, I saw that he put no faith in my reply.

"I am an aide-de-camp to General Picton, but without regimental rank."

"What was the British force under arms yesterday?"

"I do not feel at liberty to give you any information as to the number or the movements of our army."

"Diantre! Diantre!" said he, slapping his boot with his horsewhip, "do you know what you've been saying there, eh? Cambronne, you heard him, did you?"

"Yes, Sire, and if your Majesty would permit me to deal with him, I would have his information, if he possess any, and that ere long, too."

"Eh, gaillard," said he, laughing, as he pinched the old general's ear in jest, "I believe you, with all my heart."

The full truth flashed upon my mind. I was in presence of the Emperor himself. As, however, up to this moment I was unconscious of his presence, I resolved now to affect ignorance of it throughout.

"Had you despatches, sir?" said he, turning towards me with a look of stern severity. "Were any despatches found upon him when he was taken?" This latter question was directed to the aide-de-camp who introduced me, and who still remained at the door.

"No, Sire, nothing was found upon him except this locket."

As he said these words he placed in Napoleon's hands the keepsake which St. Croix had left with me years before in Spain, and which, as the reader may remember, was a miniature of the Empress Josephine.

The moment the Emperor threw his eyes upon it, the flush which excitement had called into his cheek disappeared at once. He became pale as death, his very lips as bloodless as his wan cheek.

"Leave me, Lefebvre; leave me, Cambronne, for a moment. I will speak with this gentleman alone."

As the door closed upon them he leaned his arm upon the mantelpiece, and with his head sunk upon his bosom, remained some moments without speaking.

"Augure sinistre!" muttered he within his teeth, as his piercing gaze was riveted upon the picture before him. "Voila la troisieme fois peut-etre la derniere." Then suddenly rousing himself, he advanced close to me, and seizing me by the arm with a grasp like iron, inquired:—

"How came you by this picture? The truth, sir; mark me, the truth!"

Without showing any sign of feeling hurt at the insinuation of this question, I detailed, in as few words as I could, the circumstance by which the locket became mine. Long before I had concluded, however, I could mark that his attention flagged, and finally wandered far away from the matter before him.

"Why will you not give me the information I look for? I seek for no breach of faith. The campaign is all but over. The Prussians were beaten at Ligny, their army routed, their artillery captured, ten thousand prisoners taken. Your troops and the Dutch were conquered yesterday, and they are in full retreat on Brussels. By to-morrow evening I shall date my bulletin from the palace at Laeken. Antwerp will be in my possession within twenty-four hours. Namur is already mine. Cambronne, Lefebvre," cried he, "cet homme-la n'en sait rien," pointing to me as he spoke; "let us see the other." With this he motioned slightly with his hand as a sign for me to withdraw, and the next moment I was once more in the solitude of my prison-room, thinking over the singular interview I had just had with the great Emperor.

How anxiously pass the hours of one who, deprived of other means of information, is left to form his conjectures by some passing object or some chance murmur. The things which, in the ordinary course of life, are passed by unnoticed and unregarded, are now matters of moment,—with what scrutiny he examines the features of those whom he dare not question; with what patient ear he listens to each passing word. Thus to me, a prisoner, the hours went by tardily yet anxiously; no sabre clanked; no war-horse neighed; no heavy-booted cuirassier tramped in the courtyard beneath my window, without setting a hundred conjectures afloat as to what was about to happen. For some time there had been a considerable noise and bustle in and about the dwelling. Horsemen came and went continually. The sounds of galloping could be heard along the paved causeway; then the challenge of the sentry at the gate; then the nearer tread of approaching stops, and many voices speaking together, would seem to indicate that some messenger had arrived with despatches. At length all these sounds became hushed and still. No longer were the voices heard; and except the measured tread of the heavy cuirassier, as he paced on the flags beneath, nothing was to be heard. My state of suspense, doubly greater now than when the noise and tumult suggested food for conjecture, continued till towards noon, when a soldier in undress brought me some breakfast, and told me to prepare speedily for the road.

Scarcely had he left the room, when the rumbling noise of wagons was heard below, and a train of artillery carts moved into the little courtyard loaded with wounded men. It was a sad and frightful sight to see these poor fellows, as, crammed side by side in the straw of the charrette, they lay, their ghastly wounds opening with every motion of the wagon, while their wan, pale faces were convulsed with agony and suffering. Of every rank, from the sous-lieutenant to the humble soldier, from every arm of the service, from the heavy cuirassier of the guard to the light and intrepid tirailleur, they were there. I well remember one, an artillery-man of the guard, who, as they lifted him forth from the cart, presented the horrifying spectacle of one both of whose legs had been carried away by a cannon-shot. Pale, cold, and corpse-like, ha lay in their arms; his head lay heavily to one side, his arms fell passively as in death. It was at this moment a troop of lancers, the advanced guard of D'Erlon's Division, came trotting up the road; the cry of "Vive l'Empereur!" burst from them as they approached; its echo rang within the walls of the farm-house, when suddenly the dying man, as though some magic touch had called him back to life and vigor, sprang up erect between his bearers, his filmy eye flashing fire, a burning spot of red coloring his bloodless cheek. He cast one wild and hurried look around him, like one called back from death to look upon the living; and as he raised his blood-stained hand above his head, shouted, in a heart-piercing cry, "Vive l'Empereur!" The effort was his last. It was the expiring tribute of allegiance to the chief he adored. The blood spouted in cataracts from his half-closed wounds, a convulsive spasm worked through his frame, his eyes rolled fearfully, as his outstretched hands seemed striving to clutch some object before them, and he was dead. Fresh arrivals of wounded continued to pour in; and now I thought I could detect at intervals the distant noise of a cannonade. The wind, however, was from the southward, and the sounds were too indistinct to be relied on.

"Allons, aliens, mon cher!" said a rough but good-humored looking fellow, as he strode into my room. He was the quartermaster of Milhaud's Dragoons, under whose care I was now placed, and came to inform me that we were to set out immediately.

Monsieur Bonnard was a character in his way; and if it were not so near the conclusion of my history, I should like to present him to my readers. As it is, I shall merely say he was a thorough specimen of one class of his countrymen,—a loud talker, a louder swearer, a vaporing, boasting, overbearing, good-natured, and even soft-hearted fellow, who firmly believed that Frenchmen were the climax of the species, and Napoleon the climax of Frenchmen. Being a great bavard, he speedily told me all that had taken place during the last two days. From him I learned that the Prussians had really been beaten at Ligny, and had fallen back, he knew not where. They were, however, he said, hotly pursued by Grouchy, with thirty-five thousand men, while the Emperor himself was now following the British and Dutch armies with seventy thousand more.

"You see," continued he, "l'affaire est faite! Who can resist the Emperor?"

These were sad tidings for me; and although I did not place implicit confidence in my informant, I had still my fears that much of what he said was true.

"And the British, now," said I, "what direction have they taken?"

"Bah, they're in retreat on Brussels, and will probably capitulate to-morrow."

"Capitulate!"

"Oui, oui; ne vous fachez pas, camarade," said he, laughing. "What could you do against Napoleon? You did not expect to beat him, surely? But come, we must move on; I have my orders to bring you to Planchenoit this evening, and our horses are tired enough already."

"Mine, methinks, should be fresh," said I.

"Parbleu, mon!" replied he; "he has twice made the journey to Fresnes this morning with despatches for Marshal Ney; the Emperor is enraged with the marshal for having retreated last night, having the wood in his possession; he says he should have waited till daybreak, and then fallen upon your retreating columns. As it is, you are getting away without much loss. Sacristie, that was a fine charge!" These last words he muttered to himself, adding, between his teeth, "Sixty-four killed and wounded."

"What was that? Who were they?" said I.

"Our fellows," replied he, frankly; "the Emperor ordered up two twelve-pounders, and eight squadrons of lancers; they fell upon your light dragoons in a narrow part of the high road. But suddenly we heard a noise in front; your hussars fell back, and a column of your heavy dragoons came thundering down upon us. Parbleu! they swept over us as if we were broken infantry; and there! there!" said he, pointing to the courtyard, from whence the groans of the wounded still rose,—"there are the fruits of that terrible charge."