Chapter XXIII.

Napoleon had commenced those daring and rapid movements, which for a time threw the peace of the world into the scale of fortune, and which nothing but the interposition of a ruling providence could avert from their threatened success; as the --the Dragoons wheeled into a field already deluged with English blood, on the heights of Quartre Bras. The eye of its gallant Colonel saw a friendly battalion falling beneath the sabres of the enemy's Cuirassiers. The word was passed--the column opens--the sounds of the quivering bugle were heard for a moment, over the roar of the cannon and the shouts of the combatants; the charge sweeping, like a whirlwind--

fell heavy on those treacherous Frenchmen, who to day had sworn fidelity to Louis, and to-morrow intended lifting their hands in allegiance to his rival.

"Spare my life in merey," cried an officer, already dreadfully wounded, who stood shrinking from the impending blow of an enraged Frenchman.--

An English dragoon dashed at the Cuirassier, and with one blow severed his arm from his body--

"Thank God," sighed the wounded officer, as he sunk beneath the horse's feet.

His rescuer threw himself from the saddle to his assistance, and raising the fallen man,inquired into his wounds--It was Pendennyss--it was Egerton. The wounded man groaned aloud, as he saw the face of him who had averted the fatal blow--but it was not the hour for explanations or confessions, other than those with which the dying soldiers endeavoured to make their tardy peace with their God.

Sir Henry was given in charge to two slightly wounded British soldiers, and the Earl remounted--the scattered troops were rallied at the sound of the trumpet--and again and again--led by their dauntless Colonel, were seen in the thickest of the fray, with sabres drenched in blood, and voices hoarse with the shouts of victory.

The period between the battles of Quartre Bras and Waterloo, was a trying one to the discipline and courage of the British army. The discomfited Prussians on their flank, had been routed and compelled to retire, and in their front was an enemy, brave, skilful, and victorious--led by

the greatest Captain of the age. The prudent commander of the English forces fell back with dignity and reluctance to the field of Waterloo; here the mighty struggle was to terminate, and the eye of every experienced soldier, looked on those eminences, as the future graves for thousands.

During this solemn interval of comparative inactivity, the mind of Pendenny ss dwelt on the affection, the innocence, the beauty andworth of his Emily, until the curdling blood, as he thought on her lot, should his life be the purchase of the coming victory, warned him to quit the gloomy subject, for the consolations of that religion which could only yield him the solace his wounded feelings required. In his former campaigns, the Earl had been sensible of the mighty changes of death, and had ever kept in view the preparations necessary to meet it with hope and joy; but the world clung around him now, in the best affections of his nature--and it was only as he could picture the happy reunion with his Emily in a future life, he could look on a separation in this, without despair.

The vicinity of the enemy admitted of no relaxation in the strictest watchfulness in the British lines, and the comfortless night of the seventeenth, was passed by the Earl, and his Lieutenant Colonel, George Denbigh, on the same cloak, and under the open canopy of Heaven.

As the opening cannon of the enemy gave the signal for the commencing conflict, Pendennyss mounted his charger with a last thought on his distant wife; with a mighty struggle he tore her as it were from his bosom, and gave the remainder of the day to his country and duty.

Who has not heard of the events of that fearful hour, on which the fate of Europe hung as it were suspended in a scale? On oneside supported by the efforts of desperate resolution, guided by the most consummate art; and on the other defended, by a discipline and enduring courage, almost without a parallel.

The indefatigable Blucher arrived, and the star of Napoleon sunk.

Pendennyss threw himself from his horse, on the night of the eighteenth of June, as he gave way by orders, in the pursuit, to the fresher battalions of the Prussians--with the languor that follows unusual excitement, and mental thanksgivings that his bloody work was at length ended. The image of his Emily again broke over the sterner feelings engendered by the battle, as the first glimmerings of light, which succeed the awful darkness of the eclipse of the sun; and he again breathed freely, in

the consciousness of the happiness which would await his now speedy return.

"I am sent for the Colonel of the--th Dragoons," said a courier in broken English to a soldier, near where the Earl lay on the ground, waiting the preparations of his attendants--"have I found the right regiment, my friend?"

"To be sure you have," answered the man, without looking up from his toil on his favourite animal, "you might have tracked us by the dead Frenchmen, I should think. So you want my Lord, my lad, do you? do we move again to-night?" suspending his labour for a moment in expectation of a reply.

"Not to my knowledge," rejoined the courier, "my message is to your Colonel, from a dying man; will you point out his station?" the soldier complied, and the message was soon delivered, and Pendennyss prepared to obey its summons immediately. Preceded by the messenger as a guide, and followed by Harmer, the Earl retraced his steps, over that ground he had but a few hours before been engaged on, in the deadly strife of man to man, hand to hand.

How different is the contemplation of a field of battle, during and after the conflict. The excitement--suspended success--shouts, uproar, and confusion of the former, prevent any contemplation of the nicer parts, of this confused mass of movements, charges and retreats; or if a brilliant advance is made, a masterly retreat effected, the imagination is chained by the splendour and glory of the act, without resting for a moment, on the sacrifice of individual happiness with which it is purchased. A battle ground from which the whir wind of the combat has passed, presents a different sight--it offers the very consummation of human misery.

There may be occasionally an individual, who from station, distempered mind, or the encouragement of chimerical ideas of glory, quits the theatre of life with at least the appearance of pleasure in his triumphs; if such there be in reality, if this rapture ofdeparting glory be any thing more than the deception of a distempered excitement, the subject of its exhibition, is to be greatly pitied.

To the Christian, dying in peace with both God and man, can it alone be ceded in the eye of reason, to pour out his existence, with a smile on his quivering lip.

And the warrior, who falls in the very arms of victory, after passing a life devoted to the world; even if he sees kingdoms hang suspended on his success, may smile indeed-- may utter sentiments full of loyalty and zeal--

may be the admiration of the world--and what is his reward? a deathless name, and an existence of misery, which knows no termination.

Christianity alone can make us good soldiers in any cause, for he who knows how to live, is always the least afraid to die.

Pendennyss and his companions pushed their way over the ground occupied before the battle by the enemy, descended into, and through that little valley, in which yet lay in undistinguished confusion, masses of dead and the dying of either side; and again over the ridge, on which could be marked the situation of those gallant Squares, which had so long resisted the efforts of the horse and artillery, by the groups of bodies, fallen where they had bravely stood, until even the callous Harmer, sickened with the sight of a waste of life, he had but a few hours before exultingly contributed to increase.

Appeals to their feelings as they rode through the field had been frequent, and their progress much retarded, by their attempts to contribute to the ease of a wounded or a dying man: but as the courier constantly urged their speed, as the only means of securing the object of their ride, these halts were reluctantly abandoned.

It was ten o'clock before they reached the farm house, where lay in the midst of hundreds of his countrymen, the former lover of Jane.

As the subject of his confession must be anticipated by the reader, we will give a short relation of his life, and those acts which more materially affect our history.

Henry Egerton had been turned early on the world, like hundreds of his countrymen, without any principle, to counteract the arts of infidelity, or resist the temptations of life. His father held a situation under government, and was devoted to his rise in the diplomatic line. His mother, a woman of fashion, who lived for effect, and idle competition with her sisters in weakness and folly. All he learnt in his father's house, was selfishness, from the example of one, and a love of high life and its extravagance, from the other, of his parents.

He entered the army young---from choice. The splendour and reputation of the service, caught his fancy; and he was, by pride and constitution, indifferent to personal danger. Yet he loved London and its

amusementsbetter than glory; and the money of his uncle, Sir Edgar, whose heir he was reputed to be, had raised him to the rank of Lieutenant Colonel, without his spending an hour in the field.

Egerton had some abilities, and a good deal of ardour of temperament, by nature. The former from indulgence and example, degenerated into the acquiring the art to please in mixed society; and the latter, from want of employment, expended itself at the card table. The very irritability of genius, is dangerous to an idle man. It prompts to mischief, if it be not employed in good.

The association between the vices is intimate. There really appears to be a kind of modesty in sin, that makes it ashamed of good company. If we are unable to reconcile a favourite propensity to our principles, we are apt to abandon the unpleasant restraint on our actions, rather than admit the incongruous mixture--freed entirely from the fetters of our morals, what is there our vices will not prompt us to commit? Egerton, like thousands of others, went on from step to step in the abandonment of virtue, until he found himself in the world, free to follow all his inclinations, so he violated none of the decencies of life--and this consisted in detection--what was hid did no harm.

When in Spain, on service in his only campaign, he was accidentally, as has beenmentioned, thrown in the way of the Donna Julia, and brought her off the ground, under the influence of natural sympathy and national feeling--a kind of merit that makes vice only more dangerous, by making it sometimes amiable. He had not seen his dependant long, before her beauty, situation, and his passions, decided him to effect her ruin.

This was an occupation, his figure, manners and propensities had made him an adept in, and nothing was farther from his thoughts than the commission of any other, than the crime a gentleman might be guilty of (in his opinion) with impunity.

It is however the misfortune of sin, that from being our slave it becomes a tyrant, and Egerton attempted what in other countries, and where the laws ruled, might have cost him his life.

The conjecture of Pendennyss was true-- he saw the face of the officer who had interposed, between him and his villanous attempt, but was hid himself from view--he aimed not at his life, but his own escape; happily his first shot succeeded, for the Earl would have been sacrificed, to preserve the

character of a man of honour; though no one was more regardless of the estimation he was held in by the virtuous than Colonel Egerton.

In pursuance of his plans on Mrs. Fitzgerald, the Colonel had sedulously avoided admitting any of his companions, into the secret of his having a female in his care.

When he left the army to return home, he remained until a movement of the troops to a distant part of the country, enabled him to effect his own purposes, without incurring their ridicule; and when he found himself obliged to abandon his vehicle, for a refuge in the woods, the fear of detection made him alter his course, and under the pretence of wishing to be in a battle about to be fought, he secretly rejoined the army, and the gallantry of Colonel Egerton was mentioned in the next despatches.

Sir Herbert Nicholson commanded the advanced guard, at which the Earl arrived with the Donna Julia, and like every other brave man (unless guilty himself) was indignant at the villany of the fugitive. The times, confusion and enormities, daily practiced in the theatre of the war, prevented any close inquiries into the subject, and circumstances had so enveloped Egerton in mystery, that nothing but an interview with the lady herself was likely to expose him.

With Sir Herbert Nicholson he had been in habits of intimacy, and on that gentleman's alluding in a conversation in the barracks at F--to the lady, brought into his quarters before Lishon, he accidentally omitted mentioning the name of her rescuer. Egerton had never before heard the transaction spoken of, and as he had of course never mentioned the subject himself, was ignorant of who interfered between him and his views,also of the fate of Donna Julia; indeed, he thought it probable that it had not much improved by a change of guardians.

In his object in coming into Northamptonshire he had several views; he wanted a temporary retreat from his creditors. Jarvis had an infant fondness for play, without an adequate skill, and the money of the young ladies, in his necessities, was becoming of importance; but the daughters of Sir Edward Moseley were of a description more suited to his taste, and their portions were as ample as the others: he had become in some degree attached to Jane, and as her imprudent parents, satisfied with his possessing the exterior and requisite recommendations of a gentleman, admitted his visits freely, he determined to make her his wife.

When he met Denbigh the first time, he saw chance had thrown him in the way of a man who might hold his character in his power; he had never seen Pendennyss, and it will be remembered, was ignorant of the name of Julia's friend; he now learnt, for the first time, that it was Denbigh: uneasy at he knew not what, fearful of some exposure, he knew not how, when Sir Herbert alluded to the occurrence--with a view to rebut the charge, if Denbigh should choose to make one; with the near sightedness of guilt. he pretended to know the occurrence, and under the promise of secrecy, mentioned that the name of the officer was Denbigh; he hadnoticed Denbigh, avoiding Sir Herbert at the ball, and judging others from himself, thought it was a wish to avoid any allusions to the lady he had brought into the others quarters that induced the measure; he was in hopes that if Denbigh was not as guilty as himself, he was sufficiently so, to wish to keep the transaction from the eyes of Emily: he was however prepared for an explosion or an alliance with him, when the sudden departure of Sir Herbert removed the danger of a collision--believing at last they were to be brothers-in law, and mistaking the Earl for his cousin, whose name he bore, Egerton became reconciled to the association; while Pendennyss having in his absence heard on inquiring some of the vices of the Colonel, was debating with himself, whether he should expose them to Sir Edward or not.

It was in their occasional interchange of civilities that Pendennyss placed his pocket-book upon a table, while he exhibited the plants to the Colonel; the figure of Emily passing the window, drew him from the room, and Egerton having ended his examination, observing the book, put it in his own pocket, to return it to its owner when they next met.

The situation; name and history of Mrs. Fitzgerald were never mentioned by the Moseleys in public; but Jane, in the confidence of her affections, had told her lover who the inmate of the cottage was; the idea of her being kept there by Denbigh, immediately occurred to him, and although he was surprised at the audacity of the thing, he was determined to profit by the occasion.

To pay this visit, he staid away from the excursion on the water, as Pendennyss did to avoid his friend, Lord Henry Stapleton. An excuse of business which served for his apology, kept the Colonel from seeing Denbigh to return the book, until after his visit to the Cottage--his rhapsody of love, and offers to desert his intended wife, were nothing but the common place talk of his purposes; and his presumption in alluding to his

situation with Miss Moseley, proceeded from his impressions as to Julia's real character; in this struggle for the bell, the pocket book of Denbigh accidentally fell from his coat--and the retreat of the Colonel was too precipitate to enable him to recover it.

Mrs. Fitzgerald was too much alarmed to distinguish nicely, and Egerton proceeded to the ball room with the indifference of a hardened offender. When the arrival of Miss Jarvis, to whom he had committed himself, prompted him to a speedy declaration, and the unlucky conversation of Mr. Holt brought about a probable detection of his gaming propensities, the Colonel determined to get rid of his awkward situation and his debts, by a coup-de-main--he eloped with Miss Jarvis.

What portion of the foregoing narrative made the dying confession of Egerton to the man he had lately discovered to be the Earl of Pendennyss, the reader can easily imagine.