party--dong la roo." And so having said, he plunged
swiftly down the stairs of the house, and passed into the
street.
Although Regulus had vowed that he was the only
man of his regiment or of the allied army, almost, who
had escaped being cut to pieces by Ney, it appeared
that his statement was incorrect, and that a good number
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 everywhere. 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 everywhere. Should
he take the journey on foot? Even fear could not render
that ponderous body so active.
Almost all the hotels occupied by the English in Brussels
face the Parc, and Jos wandered irresolutely about
in this quarter, with crowds of other people, oppressed as
he was by fear and curiosity. Some families he saw more
happy than himself, having discovered a team of horses,
and rattling through the streets in retreat; others again
there were whose case was like his own, and who
could not for any bribes or entreaties procure the
necessary means of flight. Amongst these would-be fugitives,
Jos remarked the Lady Bareacres and her daughter, who
sate in their carriage in the porte-cochere of their hotel,
all their imperials packed, and the only drawback to
whose flight was the same want of motive power which
kept Jos stationary.
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 neighbour. The
Countess was shocked at the familiarity of General Tufto
with the aide-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. If 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. Crawley returned a note with her compliments,
and an intimation that it was not her custom to
transact bargains with ladies' maids.
This curt reply brought the Earl in person to Becky's
apartment; but he could get no more success than the
first ambassador. "Send a lady's maid to ME!" Mrs.
Crawley cried in great anger; "why didn't my 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.
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.
"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 you and your diamonds together. The French
will have those They will be here in two hours, and I
shall be half way to Ghent by that time. I would not sell
you my horses, no, not for the two largest diamonds that
your Ladyship wore at the ball." Lady Bareacres trembled
with rage and terror. The diamonds were sewed into her
habit, and secreted in my Lord's padding and boots.
"Woman, the diamonds are at the banker's, and I WILL
have the horses," she said. Rebecca laughed in her face.
The infuriate Countess went below, and sate in her
carriage; her maid, her courier, and her husband were sent
once more through the town, each to look for cattle; and
woe betide those who came last! Her Ladyship was
resolved on departing the very instant the horses arrived
from any quarter--with her husband or without him.
Rebecca had the pleasure of seeing her Ladyship in
the horseless carriage, and keeping her eyes fixed upon
her, and bewailing, in the loudest tone of voice, the
Countess's perplexities. "Not to be able to get horses!"
she said, "and to have all those diamonds sewed into the
carriage cushions! What a prize it will be for the French
when they come!--the carriage and the diamonds, I mean;
not the lady!" She gave this information to the landlord,
to the servants, to the guests, and the innumerable
stragglers about the courtyard. Lady Bareacres could have
shot her from the carriage window.
It was while enjoying the humiliation of her enemy that
Rebecca caught sight of Jos, who made towards her
directly he perceived her.
That altered, frightened, fat face, told his secret well
enough. He too wanted to fly, and was on the look-out
for the means of escape. "HE shall buy my horses,"
thought Rebecca, "and I'll ride the mare."
Jos walked up to his friend, and put the question for
the hundredth time during the past hour, "Did she know
where horses were to be had?"
"What, YOU fly?" said Rebecca, with a laugh. "I
thought you were the champion of all the ladies, Mr.
Sedley."
"I--I'm not a military man," gasped he.
"And Amelia?--Who is to protect that poor little sister
of yours?" asked Rebecca. "You surely would not desert
her?"
"What good can I do her, suppose--suppose the enemy
arrive?" Jos answered. "They'll spare the women; but my
man tells me that they have taken an oath to give no
quarter to the men--the dastardly cowards."
"Horrid!" cried Rebecca, enjoying his perplexity.
"Besides, I don't want to desert her," cried the brother.
"She SHAN'T be deserted. There is a seat for her in my
carriage, and one for you, dear Mrs. Crawley, if you will
come; and if we can get horses--" sighed he--
"I have two to sell," the lady said. Jos could have
flung himself into her arms at the news. "Get the carriage,
Isidor," he cried; "we've found them--we have found
them."
My horses never were in harness," added the lady.
"Bullfinch would kick the carriage to pieces, if you put
him in the traces."
"But he is quiet to ride?" asked the civilian.
"As quiet as a lamb, and as fast as a hare," answered
Rebecca.
"Do you think he is up to my weight?" Jos said. He
was already on his back, in imagination, without ever so
much as a thought for poor Amelia. What person who
loved a horse-speculation could resist such a temptation?
In reply, Rebecca asked him to come into her room,
whither he followed her quite breathless to conclude the
bargain. Jos seldom spent a half-hour in his life which
cost him so much money. Rebecca, measuring the value
of the goods which she had for sale by Jos's eagerness to
purchase, as well as by the scarcity of the article, put
upon her horses a price so prodigious as to make even
the civilian draw back. "She would sell both or neither,"
she said, resolutely. Rawdon had ordered her not to part
with them for a price less than that which she specified.
Lord Bareacres below would give her the same money--
and with all her love and regard for the Sedley family,
her dear Mr. Joseph must conceive that poor people must
live--nobody, in a word, could be more affectionate, but
more firm about the matter of business.
Jos ended by agreeing, as might be supposed of him.
The sum he had to give her was so large that he was
obliged to ask for time; so large as to be a little fortune
to Rebecca, who rapidly calculated that with this sum,
and the sale of the residue of Rawdon's effects, and her
pension as a widow should he fall, she would now be
absolutely independent of the world, and might look her
weeds steadily in the face.
Once or twice in the day she certainly had herself
thought about flying. But her reason gave her better
counsel. "Suppose the French do come," thought Becky,
"what can they do to a poor officer's widow? Bah! the
times of sacks and sieges are over. We shall be let to go
home quietly, or I may live pleasantly abroad with a snug
little income."
Meanwhile Jos and Isidor went off to the stables to
inspect the newly purchased cattle. Jos bade his man
saddle the horses at once. He would ride away that very
night, that very hour. And he left the valet busy in getting
the horses ready, and went homewards himself to
prepare for his departure. It must be secret. He would go to
his chamber by the back entrance. He did not care to face
Mrs. O'Dowd and Amelia, and own to them that he was
about to run.
By the time Jos's bargain with Rebecca was completed,
and his horses had been visited and examined, it was
almost morning once more. But though midnight was long
passed, there was no rest for the city; the people were
up, the lights in the houses flamed, crowds were still
about the doors, and the streets were busy. Rumours of
various natures went still from mouth to mouth: one
report averred that the Prussians had been utterly
defeated; another that it was the English who had been
attacked and conquered: a third that the latter had held
their ground. This last rumour gradually got strength. No
Frenchmen had made their appearance. Stragglers had
come in from the army bringing reports more and more
favourable: at last an aide-de-camp actually reached
Brussels with despatches for the Commandant of the
place, who placarded presently through the town an
official announcement of the success of the allies at Quatre
Bras, and the entire repulse of the French under Ney
after a six hours' battle. The aide-de-camp must have
arrived sometime while Jos and Rebecca were making their
bargain together, or the latter was inspecting his
purchase. When he reached his own hotel, he found a score
of its numerous inhabitants on the threshold discoursing
of the news; there was no doubt as to its truth. And he
went up to communicate it to the ladies under his charge.
He did not think it was necessary to tell them how he
had intended to take leave of them, how he had bought
horses, and what a price he had paid for them.
But success or defeat was a minor matter to them, who
had only thought for the safety of those they loved.
Amelia, at the news of the victory, became still more
agitated even than before. She was for going that
moment to the army. She besought her brother with tears to
conduct her thither. Her doubts and terrors reached their
paroxysm; and the poor girl, who for many hours had
been plunged into stupor, raved and ran hither and
thither in hysteric insanity--a piteous sight. No man
writhing in pain on the hard-fought field fifteen miles
off, where lay, after their struggles, so many of the brave
--no man suffered more keenly than this poor harmless
victim of the war. Jos could not bear the sight of her
pain. He left his sister in the charge of her stouter female
companion, and descended once more to the threshold
of the hotel, where everybody still lingered, and talked,
and waited for more news.
It grew to be broad daylight as they stood here, and
fresh news began to arrive from the war, brought by
men who had been actors in the scene. Wagons and long
country carts laden with wounded came rolling into the
town; ghastly groans came from within them, and
haggard faces looked up sadly from out of the straw. Jos
Sedley was looking at one of these carriages with a
painful curiosity--the moans of the people within were
frightful--the wearied horses could hardly pull the cart.
"Stop! stop!" a feeble voice cried from the straw, and the
carriage stopped opposite Mr. Sedley's hotel.
"It is George, I know it is!" cried Amelia, rushing in a
moment to the balcony, with a pallid face and loose
flowing hair. It was not George, however, but it was the
next best thing: it was news of him.
It was poor Tom Stubble, who had marched out of
Brussels so gallantly twenty-four hours before, bearing
the colours of the regiment, which he had defended very
gallantly upon the field. A French lancer had speared the
young ensign in the leg, who fell, still bravely holding to
his flag. At the conclusion of the engagement, a place
had been found for the poor boy in a cart, and he had
been brought back to Brussels.
"Mr. Sedley, Mr. Sedley!" cried the boy, faintly, and
Jos came up almost frightened at the appeal. He had not
at first distinguished who it was that called him.
Little Tom Stubble held out his hot and feeble hand.
"I'm to be taken in here," he said. "Osborne--and--and
Dobbin said I was; and you are to give the man two
napoleons: my mother will pay you." This young fellow's
thoughts, during the long feverish hours passed in the
cart, had been wandering to his father's parsonage which
he had quitted only a few months before, and he had
sometimes forgotten his pain in that delirium.
The hotel was large, and the people kind, and all the
inmates of the cart were taken in and placed on various
couches. The young ensign was conveyed upstairs to
