"Look," said Amelia, "this is his sash--isn't it a pretty colour?'' and she took up the fringe and kissed it.She had tied it round her waist at some part of the day.She had forgotten her anger, her jealousy, the very presence of her rival seemingly.For she walked silently and almost with a smile on her face, towards the bed, and began to smooth down George's pillow.
Rebecca walked, too, silently away."How is Amelia?"asked Jos, who still held his position in the chair.
"There should be somebody with her," said Rebecca.
"I think she is very unwell": and she went away with a very grave face, refusing Mr.Sedley's entreaties that she would stay and partake of the early dinner which he had ordered.
Rebecca was of a good-natured and obliging disposition;and she liked Amelia rather than otherwise.Even her hard words, reproachful as they were, were complimentary--the groans of a person stinging under defeat.
Meeting Mrs.O'Dowd, whom the Dean's sermons had by no means comforted, and who was walking very disconsolately in the Parc, Rebecca accosted the latter, rather to the surprise of the Major's wife, who was not accustomed to such marks of politeness from Mrs.
Rawdon Crawley, and informing her that poor little Mrs.
Osborne was in a desperate condition, and almost mad with grief, sent off the good-natured Irishwoman straight to see if she could console her young favourite.
"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.
Jos's spirits rose with his meal.He would drink the regiment's health; or, indeed, take any other excuse to indulge in a glass of champagne."We'll drink to O'Dowd and the brave --th," said he, bowing gallantly to his guest."Hey, Mrs.O'Dowd? Fill Mrs.O'Dowd's glass, Isidor."But all of a sudden, Isidor started, and the Major's wife laid down her knife and fork.The windows of the room were open, and looked southward, and a dull distant sound came over the sun-lighted roofs from that direction.''What is it?" said Jos."Why don't you pour, you rascal?""Cest le feu!" said Isidor, running to the balcony.
"God defend us; it's cannon!" Mrs.O'Dowd cried, starting up, and followed too to the window.A thousand pale and anxious faces might have been seen looking from other casements.And presently it seemed as if the whole population of the city rushed into the streets.
