time-he may come any minute. Some one has made a mistake. I don't know what that man said; but he has made a mistake, doctor. My son, Mr. Vincent, will see to all that. It has nothing to do with us. Tell me what we are to do for my child. Cut off her hair? Oh, yes, yes, anything! I don't mind it, though it is a sacrifice. She has had-a--a great fright, doctor. She could not tell me particulars. When her brother comes home, we will hear all," said the widow, looking with a jealous gaze in his eyes to see if he believed her. The scene altogether overcame Dr. Rider. He turned away and went to the other side of the room, and took a glass of water from the table before he could answer her or meet that appeal. Then he soothed her as he best could with directions about Susan. He went away immediately to come back in an hour, if perhaps there might be any change so he said; but, in reality, he wanted to escape, to hear this dreadful story, to think what was best. Friendless, with nobody near to protect them, and the officer of justice waiting at the door, what were these women to do; perhaps death waited closer than the visible messenger of fate. Would it be well to stay that more merciful executioner on his way? The doctor found the officer outside the door, waiting, not without pity, at his post. He heard what was this man's version of the strange tragedy strange, and yet not unfamiliar to human ears. The young woman had been betrayed and ruined. In wild vengeance and misery she had seized one of her seducer's pistols and shot him through the head-such was the story. And now she had fled from the scene of the murder, tracked step by step by the avenger. The whole house was in a tumult, as may be supposed. The indignant landlady, who was a member of Salem, could scarcely be prevented going into the jealously-closed room and turning out the unhappy criminal. Another lodger, a nervous woman, had already collected her goods to fly from the place. Outside, some mysterious instinct had collected a few people about the door of the hitherto irreproachable house, which imagination magnified into a crowd. Already Tozer had set out from his shop, red with anger, to inquire into this incipient excitement, which nobody could explain. And still Arthur had not appeared to stand by the miserable woman in this horrible climax of fate. When the doctor went back to the room where Susan was, he found Mrs. Vincent in a state of agitated activity. Mary and she were flitting about the room, moving lights before Susan's eyes, making what noises they could with the furniture, keeping a fantastic commotion about the bed. "She stirred, doctor, and we are trying to rouse her," said the widow, who had put everything but Susan's bodily extremity from her eyes at the moment. The doctor, who was desperate, and whose heart was moved, resorted to desperate measures. He gathered them about the bed, set Mrs. Vincent to support the insensible form, and raising that white marble arm which had developed into such glorious proportion, touched the swollen blue vein with his lancet. The touch acted like magic. In another moment she had struggled up out of her mother's grasp, and thrown out the arm, from which the blood flowed, up above her head, the crimson stream caught her wild eye as she raised her arm in the air. A convulsive shudder shook her frame. She threw herself over on her face with a cry of horror, far more than a match, in her strength of youth and passion, for the agitated arms that held her. 66 Mother, mother, mother! it is his blood! it is his life!" cried that despairing voice. The confused bed, the convulsed frame, the flowing blood, all pitifully lighted up by Mary's candle, made up of themselves a scene like murder; and Dr. Rider vainly tried to forget the dreadful words which forced upon his mind their untimely testimony. He shuddered at the touch of that white woman's hand as he bound up the wounded arm. He withdrew his eyes from the pallid grandeur of the stricken face. In spite of himself, horror mingled with his pity. A heavier stain was upon her than those crimson traces on her pearly skin. Other words followed in an incoherent stream. Fever of the heart and brain, burning up into consuming frenzy, had seized upon this lost creature, who was no longer a girl or innocent. Ere long they had to send for nurses to restrain her delirium. She, raving with a wild madness which betrayed in every wandering exclamation the horror upon her soul, lay desperate in the room which had enclosed for so many lingering hours her mother's anguish of suspense and fear. In an adjoining room, the man who had followed her to this refuge still waited, watchful yet pitiful, intent that his prisoner should not escape him. While outside a few gazers lingered, looking up at the lights in the windows, with a strange perception that something unusual had happened, though nobody knew what it was. Such was the scene upon which Arthur Vincent, not unwarned, yet incredulous, came suddenly with eyes of horror and wild indignation as he reached his own door. HIS is the officer that I spoke of," | terrible, long, straight swords, came sweeping said an aide-de-camp, as he rode up down upon them. A line of impassable bayonets, to where I was standing, bare-headed a living chevaux-de-frise of the best blood of and without a sword. "He has just Britain, stood firm and motionless before the made his escape from the French shock. The French mitraille played mercilessly lines, and will be able to give your lordship some on the ranks, but the chasms were filled up like information." magic, and in vain the bold horsemen of Gaul galloped round the bristling files. At length the word "Fire!" was heard within the square, and, as the bullets at pistol range rattled upon them, the cuirass afforded them no defence against the deadly volley. Men and horses rolled indiscriminately upon the earth. Then would come a charge of our dashing squadrons, who, riding recklessly upon the foe, were in their turn to be repulsed by numbers, and fresh attacks poured down upon our unshaken infantry. The handsome features and gorgeous costume of Lord Uxbridge were known to me; but I was not aware, till afterwards, that a soldier-like, resolute-looking officer beside him was General Graham. It was the latter who first addressed me. "Are you aware, sir," said he, "if Grouchy's force is arrived?" "They had not on the contrary, as, shortly before I escaped, an aide-de-camp was despatched to Gembloux, to hasten his coming. And the troops, for they must be troops, were debouching from the wood yonder. They seem to form a junction with the corps to the right; they are the Prussians. They arrived there before noon from St. Lambert, and are part of Bulow's corps. Count Lobau and his division of ten thousand men were despatched, about an hour since, to hold them in check." "This is great news," said Lord Uxbridge. "Fitzroy must know it at once." So saying, he dashed spurs into his horse, and soon disappeared amid the crowd on the hill-top. "You had better see the Duke, sir," said Graham. "Your information is too important to be delayed. Captain Calvert, let this officer have a horse; his own is too tired to go much further." And a cap, I beg of you," added I, in an undertone, "for I have already found a sabre." By a slight circuitous route we reached the road, upon which a mass of dismounted artillerycarts, baggage-waggons, and tumbrils were heaped together as a barricade against the attack of the French dragoons, who more than once had penetrated to the very crest of our position. Close to this, and on a little rising ground, from which a view of the entire field extended, from Hougoumont to the far left, the Duke of Wellington stood, surrounded by his staff. His eye was bent upon the valley before him, when the advancing columns of Ney's attack still pressed onwards; while the fire of sixty great guns poured death and carnage into his lines. The second Belgian division, routed and broken, had fallen back upon the 27th Regiment, who had merely time to throw themselves into square, when Milhaud's cuirassiers, armed with their "That column yonder is wavering. Why does he not bring up his supporting squadrons?” inquired the Duke, pointing to a Belgian regiment of light dragoons, who were formed in the same brigade with the 7th Hussars. 66 He refuses to oppose his light cavalry to cuirassiers, my lord," said an aide-de-camp, who had just returned from the division in question. "Tell him to march his men off the ground," said the Duke, with a quiet and impassive tone. In less than ten minutes the "Belgian regiment" was seen to defile from the mass, and take the road to Brussels, to increase the panic of that city, by circulating and strengthening the report that the English were beaten, and Napoleon in full march upon the capital. "What's Ney's force? can you guess, sir?" said the Duke of Wellington, turning to me. "About twelve thousand men, my lord." "Are the Guard among them?" "No, sir; the Guard are in reserve above La Belle Alliance." "In what part of the field is Bonaparte?" "Nearly opposite to where we stand." "I told you, gentlemen, Hougoumont never was the great attack. The battle must be decided here," pointing, as he spoke, to the plain beneath us, where Ney still poured on his devoted columns, where yet the French cavalry rode down upon our firm squares. As he spoke, an aide-de-camp rode up from the valley. "The Ninety-second requires support, my Lord. They cannot maintain their position half an hour longer without it." "Have they given way, sir?" "Do it then," said the Duke, in reply to some resistance. As the tall corn bends beneath the whispered question of Lord Uxbridge; and shortly after the heavy trot of advancing squadrons was heard behind. They were the Life Guards and the Blues, who, with the 1st Dragoon Guards and the Enniskilleners, were formed into close column. "I know the ground, my lord," said I to Lord Uxbridge. "Come along, sir, come along," said he, as he threw his hussar jacket loosely behind him, to give freedom to his sword-arm. "Forward, my sweeping hurricane, wave succeeding wave, so did the steel-clad squadrons of France fall before the nervous arm of Britain's cavalry. Onward they went, carrying death and ruin before them, and never stayed their course until the guns were recaptured, and the cuirassiers, repulsed, disordered, and broken, had retired beneath the protection of their artillery. There was, as a brilliant and eloquent writer on the subject mentions, a terrible sameness in the whole of this battle. Incessant charges of cavalry upon the squares of our infantry, whose sole he might send forth the iron storm of his brave manœuvre consisted in either deploying into line infantry; but, though death in every shape to resist the attack of infantry, or falling back into heralded their approach, still were others found square when the cavalry advanced; performing to fill the fallen ranks, and feed with their heart's these two evolutions under the devastating fire of blood the unslaked thirst for slaughter. Well artillery, before the unflinching heroism of that might the gallant leader of this gallant host, as he veteran infantry whose glories had been reaped watched the reckless onslaught of the untiring upon the blood-stained fields of Austerlitz enemy, and looked upon the unflinching few who, Marengo, and Wagram, or opposing an unbroken bearing the proud badge of Britain, alone susfront to the whirlwind swoop of infuriated tained the fight, well might he exclaim, “Night cavalry. Such were the enduring and devoted or Blucher!" services demanded from the English troops, and such they failed not to render. Once or twice had temper nearly failed them, and the cry ran through the ranks, "Are we never to move forward? Only let us at them!" But the word was not yet spoken which was to undam the pentup torrent, and bear down with unrelenting vengeance upon the now exulting columns of the enemy. It was six o'clock: the battle had continued with unchanged fortune for three hours. The French, masters of La Haye Sainte, could never advance further into our position. They had gained the orchard of Hougoumont, but the château was still held by the British Guards, although its blazing roof and crumbling walls made its occupation rather the desperate stand of unflinching valour than the maintenance of an important position. The smoke which hung upon the field rolled in slow and heavy masses back upon the French lines, and gradually discovered to our view the entire of the army. We quickly perceived that a change was taking place in their position. The troops, which on their left stretched far beyond Hougoumont, were now moved nearer to the centre. The attack upon the château seemed less vigorously supported, while the oblique direction of their right wing, which, pivoting upon Planchenoit, opposed a face to the Prussians, all denoted a change in their order of battle. It was now the hour when Napoleon, at last convinced that nothing but the carnage he could no longer support could destroy the unyielding ranks of British infantry; that although Hougoumont had been partially, La Haye Sainte completely won; that upon the right of the road the farm - houses Papelotte and La Haye were nearly surrounded by his troops, which with any other army must prove the forerunner of defeat, yet still the victory was beyond his grasp. The bold stratagems, whose success the experience of a life had proved, were here to be found powerless. The decisive manoeuvre of carrying one important point of the enemy's lines, of turning him upon the flank, or piercing him through the centre, were here found impracticable. He might launch his avalanche of grape-shot, he might pour down his crashing columns of cavalry, It was now seven o'clock, when a dark mass was seen to form upon the heights above the French centre, and divide into three gigantic columns, of which the right occupied the Brussels road. These were the reserves, consisting of the Old and Young Guards, and amounting to twelve thousand-the élite of the French army-reserved by the Emperor for a great coup de main. These veterans of a hundred battles had been stationed, from the beginning of the day, inactive spectators of the fight; their hour was now come, and with a shout of "Vive l'Empereur!" which rose triumphantly over the din and crash of battle, they began their march. Meanwhile, aides-de-camp galloped along the lines, announcing the arrival of Grouchy, to reanimate the drooping spirits of the men; for, at last, a doubt of victory was breaking upon the minds of those who never before, in the most adverse hour of fortune, deemed his star could be set that led them on to glory. 'They are coming; the attack will be made on the centre, my lord," said Lord Fitzroy Somerset, as he directed his glass upon the column. Scarcely had he spoken, when the telescope fell from his hand, as his arm, shattered by a French bullet, fell motionless to his side. "I see it," was the cool reply of the Duke, as he ordered the Guards to deploy into line, and lie down behind the ridge, which now the French artillery had found the range of, and were labouring at their guns. In front of them the Fiftysecond, Seventy-first, and Ninety-fifth formed; the artillery stationed above and partly upon the road, loaded with grape, and waited but the word to open. were It was an awful, a dreadful moment: the Prussian cannon thundered on our left, but so desperate was the French resistance, they made but little progress: the dark columns of the Guard had now commenced the ascent, and the artillery ceased their fire as the bayonets of the grenadiers showed themselves upon the slope. Then began that tremendous cheer from right to left of our line, which those who heard never can forget. It was the impatient, long-restrained burst of unslaked vengeance. With the instinct which valour teaches, they knew the hour of trial was come; and that wild cry flew from rank to rank, echoing from the blood-stained walls of Hougoumont to the far-off valley of La Papelotte. "They come ! they come !" was the cry; and the shout of "Vive l'Empereur!" mingled with the outburst of the British line. Under an overwhelming shower of grape, to which succeeded a charge of cavalry of the Imperial Guard, the head of Ney's column fired its volley and advanced with the bayonet. The British artillery now opened at half range, and, although the plunging fire scathed and devastated the dark ranks of the Guard, on they came, Ney himself, on foot, at their head. Twice the leading division of that gallant column turned completely round, as the withering fire wasted and consumed them; but they were resolved to win. Already they gained the crest of the hill, and the first line of the British were falling back before them. The artillery closes up; the flanking fire from the guns upon the road opens upon them; the head of their column breaks like a shell; the Duke seizes the moment, and advances on foot towards the ridge. "Up, Guards, and at them!" he cried. The hour of triumph and vengeance had arrived. In a moment the Guards were on their feet; one volley was poured in; the bayonets were brought to the charge; they closed upon the enemy: then was seen the most dreadful struggle that the history of all war can present. Furious with long-restrained passion, the Guards rushed upon the leading divisions; the Seventy-first, and Ninety-fifth, and Twenty-sixth overlapped them on the flanks. Their generals fell thickly on every side; Michel, Jamier, and Mallet are killed; Friant lies wounded upon the ground; Ney, his dress pierced and ragged with balls, shouts still to advance; but the leading files waver; they fall back; the supporting divisions thicken; confusion, panic succeeds; the British press down; the cavalry come galloping up to their assistance; and at last, pell-mell, overwhelmed and beaten, the French fall back upon the Old Guard. This was the decisive moment of the day-the Duke closed his glass, as he said, "The field is won. Order the whole line to advance." On they came, four deep, and poured like a torrent from the height. "Let the Life Guards charge them," said the Duke; but every aide-de-camp on his staff was wounded, and I myself brought the order to Lord Uxbridge. Lord Uxbridge had already anticipated his orders, and bore down with four regiments of heavy cavalry upon the French centre. The Prussian artillery thundered upon their flank and at their rear. The British bayonet was in their front; while a panic fear spread through their ranks, and the cry of "Sauve qui peut!" resounded on all sides. In vain Ney, the bravest of the brave; in vain Soult, Bertrand, Gourgaud, and Labedoyère, burst from the broken disorganised mass, and called on them to stand fast. A battalion of the Old Guard, with Cambronne at their head, alone obeyed the summons; forming into square, they stood between the pursuers and their prey, offering themselves a sacrifice to the tarnished honour of their arms to the order to surrender they answered with a cry of defiance; and as our cavalry, flushed and elated with victory, rode round their bristling ranks, no quailing look, no craven spirit was there. The Emperor himself endeavoured to repair the disaster; he rode with lightning speed hither and thither, commanding, ordering, nay imploring too; but already the night was falling, the confusion became each moment more inextricable, and the effort was a fruitless one. A regiment of the Guards and two batteries were in reserve behind Planchenoit; he threw them rapidly into position; but the overwhelming impulse of flight drove the mass upon them, and they were carried away upon the torrent of the beaten army. No sooner did the Emperor see this his last hope desert him, than he dismounted from his horse, and, drawing his sword, threw himself into a square, which the first regiment of Chasseurs of the Old Guard had formed with a remnant of the battalion. Jerome followed him, as he called out, "You are right, brother: here should perish all who bear the name of Bonaparte." The same moment the Prussian light artillery rend the ranks asunder, and the cavalry charge down upon the scattered fragments. A few of his staff, who never left him, place the Emperor upon a horse and fly through the death-dealing artillery and musketry. A squadron of the Life Guards, to which I had attached myself, came up at the moment, and as Blucher's hussars rode madly here and there, where so lately the crowd of staff officers had denoted the presence of Napoleon, expressed their rage and disappointment in curses and cries of vengeance. Cambronne's battalion stood yet unbroken, and seemed to defy every attack that was brought against them. To the second summons to surrender they replied as indignantly as at first; and Vivian's brigade was ordered to charge them. A cloud of British horse bore down on every face of the devoted square; but firm as in their hour of victory, the heroes of Marengo never quailed; and twice the bravest blood of Britain recoiled, baffled and dismayed. There was a pause for some minutes, and even then, as we surveyed our broken and blood-stained squadrons, a cry of admiration burst from our ranks at the gallant |