"I've cares of my own enough," Mrs. O'Dowd said, gravely, "and I

thought poor Amelia would be little wanting for company this day. But

if she's so bad as you say, and you can't attend to her, who used to be

so fond of her, faith I'll see if I can be of service. And so good

marning to ye, Madam"; with which speech and a toss of her head, the

lady of the repayther took a farewell of Mrs. Crawley, whose company

she by no means courted.

Becky watched her marching off, with a smile on her lip. She had the

keenest sense of humour, and the Parthian look which the retreating

Mrs. O'Dowd flung over her shoulder almost upset Mrs. Crawley's

gravity. "My service to ye, me fine Madam, and I'm glad to see ye so

cheerful," thought Peggy. "It's not YOU that will cry your eyes out

with grief, anyway." And with this she passed on, and speedily found

her way to Mrs. Osborne's lodgings.

The poor soul was still at the bedside, where Rebecca had left her, and

stood almost crazy with grief. The Major's wife, a stronger-minded

woman, endeavoured her best to comfort her young friend. "You must bear

up, Amelia, dear," she said kindly, "for he mustn't find you ill when

he sends for you after the victory. It's not you are the only woman

that are in the hands of God this day."

"I know that. I am very wicked, very weak," Amelia said. She knew her

own weakness well enough. The presence of the more resolute friend

checked it, however; and she was the better of this control and

company. They went on till two o'clock; their hearts were with the

column as it marched farther and farther away. Dreadful doubt and

anguish--prayers and fears and griefs unspeakable--followed the

regiment. It was the women's tribute to the war. It taxes both alike,

and takes the blood of the men, and the tears of the women.

At half-past two, an event occurred of daily importance to Mr. Joseph:

the dinner-hour arrived. Warriors may fight and perish, but he must

dine. He came into Amelia's room to see if he could coax her to share

that meal. "Try," said he; "the soup is very good. Do try, Emmy," and

he kissed her hand. Except when she was married, he had not done so

much for years before. "You are very good and kind, Joseph," she said.

"Everybody is, but, if you please, I will stay in my room to-day."

The savour of the soup, however, was agreeable to Mrs. O'Dowd's

nostrils: and she thought she would bear Mr. Jos company. So the two

sate down to their meal. "God bless the meat," said the Major's wife,

solemnly: she was thinking of her honest Mick, riding at the head of

his regiment: "'Tis but a bad dinner those poor boys will get to-day,"

she said, with a sigh, and then, like a philosopher, fell to.




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