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

the twilight in the cheerless company of his empty champagne bottles,

he began to open his mind to her.

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

"Are you going to take her out for a walk?" said the Major's lady;

"sure she's too weak to stir."

"I--I've ordered the carriage," he said, "and--and post-horses; Isidor

is gone for them," Jos continued.

"What do you want with driving to-night?" answered the lady. "Isn't

she better on her bed? I've just got her to lie down."

"Get her up," said Jos; "she must get up, I say": and he stamped his

foot energetically. "I say the horses are ordered--yes, the horses are

ordered. It's all over, and--"

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

"I'm off for Ghent," Jos answered. "Everybody is going; there's a

place for you! We shall start in half-an-hour."

The Major's wife looked at him with infinite scorn. "I don't move till

O'Dowd gives me the route," said she. "You may go if you like, Mr.

Sedley; but, faith, Amelia and I stop here."

"She SHALL go," said Jos, with another stamp of his foot. Mrs. O'Dowd

put herself with arms akimbo before the bedroom door.

"Is it her mother you're going to take her to?" she said; "or do you

want to go to Mamma yourself, Mr. Sedley? Good marning--a pleasant

journey to ye, sir. Bon voyage, as they say, and take my counsel, and

shave off them mustachios, or they'll bring you into mischief."

"D--n!" yelled out Jos, wild with fear, rage, and mortification; and

Isidor came in at this juncture, swearing in his turn. "Pas de

chevaux, sacre bleu!" hissed out the furious domestic. All the horses

were gone. Jos was not the only man in Brussels seized with panic that

day.

But Jos's fears, great and cruel as they were already, were destined to

increase to an almost frantic pitch before the night was over. It has

been mentioned how Pauline, the bonne, had son homme a elle also in the

ranks of the army that had gone out to meet the Emperor Napoleon. This

lover was a native of Brussels, and a Belgian hussar. The troops of

his nation signalised themselves in this war for anything but courage,

and young Van Cutsum, Pauline's admirer, was too good a soldier to

disobey his Colonel's orders to run away. Whilst in garrison at

Brussels young Regulus (he had been born in the revolutionary times)

found his great comfort, and passed almost all his leisure moments, in

Pauline's kitchen; and it was with pockets and holsters crammed full of

good things from her larder, that he had take leave of his weeping

sweetheart, to proceed upon the campaign a few days before.




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