CHAPTER X.

THUS time wore away, and the moment Wellington had anticipated and waited for, drew near Massena without food, clothing, or pay, for his troops, was obliged to prepare for the evacuation of Portugal. On the memorable fifth of March he broke up, and we prepared to follow him. It was a period ardently looked for by our army; but I knew it was one as much dreaded by, at least, one fond heart. Poor Louisa

never

will I forget your last fond words - Oh, take care of my husband!' Poor creature! what could I do for you? yet your words often lay like a dead weight upon my heart, and gladly, cheerfully would I have taken care of your husband, if I could have done so by giving my valueless life for his ! When Courtenay was preparing to leave her again, Louisa took her darling infant in her arms, and suddenly laying it in his, said, 'Alexander, if you can forget, in times of danger, that you are a husband, still remember you are a father.'

Courtenay turned pale. I thought Louisa did not evince that self-renunciation which would have made the mother of Charles Fitzmorris spare her husband such a pang: he gazed upon his child, stooped his head upon its little face, and left a slight dampness on its rosy cheek. Unconscious little thing! it opened merrily its pretty blue eyes, and laughed, and danced in its father's arms.

The retreat of the French army was rapid, and, as is well known to all those who followed its progress, marked by traces the most appalling --arms, ammunition, and baggage, scattered over the road pieces of cannon, broken baggage-waggons, plundered valises, corpses of men and horses, were among the least so; for sacked villages and roofless houses, murdered peasants, plundered palaces, cottages, churches, and towns - all bore witness to its devastations; misery, conflagration, and ruin, accompanied the train. In the strong expressions of holy writ, The land before them was a garden of the Lord, and behind them as a desolate wilderness.'

The French army was pursued without intermission, mountains and rivers presented no obstacles: but let me pass over all this - it was other retrospections I intended.

Though in England the weather, at that early season, would be cold, and generally dreary, in Spain it was unusually delightful; and the rural and sunny prospects, where they

were not blighted by the onward rolling of the tide of war, often made me wish to linger peaceably in such tranquil scenes. But now I had done with quiet-every day we were in motion, every day on the look out for the enemy. Poor Devereux obtained a respite; for when we halted, Charles was generally engaged by his father. Courtenay was my chief companion at this time, we were daily becoming more attached; though I felt not for him the same kind of warm affection I did for my ardent, happy, heavenly-minded young comrade; I entertained for him those sentiments of sincere regard and esteem, that were founded on a knowledge of his general worth, and engaging natural qualities. With Courtenay, I could enjoy a pleasure, too, that I could not with his young cousin; though this, pleasurable as it was, was still mixed, largely mixed with pain. I could with him talk over past times, and recall the memory of days gone by.

One day, while conversing thus on times that seemed old to us, because our varied lives since they had passed, gave us so much to look over, in an interim that was really short, he asked did I recollect an evening we had spent together in Louisa's house, before she had become his wife. 'I think it was the only ball we were at there,' he said, 'I remember it well.' I knew that he recollected it, because that was the evening he first

discovered that he allowed himself to feel a more than common interest for a woman whose circumstances were so far above his own; but though to him the recollection of his feelings on that night, might be pleasurable, to me it was far otherwise; this was one of those retrospections that always gave me that poignant pang which clouded my brow, and forced a sigh, or rather a groan from my heart. 'I remember you left the room very suddenly that night,' said Courtenay, as if resolved to prove my very heart; you were called away, I believe, to see some friend

who was ill?'

'Yes,' I replied, in a manner calculated to preclude all further questioning; and as I uttered the uncourteous word, the fine-toned brazen trumpets announcing a movement of the cavalry, we hurried to the bivouac, where we remained to see what was going forward. The men were getting under arms, a division of the enemy's forces had appeared at a little distance, and their cavalry was forming just below us: our's was immediately ordered forward, and we were thrown into line, though it was not expected we would be engaged.

What a fine sight is that!' Courtenay said, with a kindling eye, as the cavalry moved past us at a rapid pace; their martial accoutrements, glittering sabres, and prancing horses, looking to advantage under a spark

ling sun. A fine young man in a handsome hussar uniform rode by as he spoke, and I believe heard him; for he cast down his eyc upon us as he passed, with a glance that said he felt the superiority of a cavalry officer : he sat upon his horse with such graceful ease, and glanced about him with so much selfcomplacency, that one might have supposed he was displaying his graceful person in Hyde Park, rather than advancing to the charge; so much careless indifference, and so much personal vanity and light-mindedness appeared about him.

The enemy's horse was defeated and driven a considerable way; we were then put into motion, but the French retired. Signs of the recent engagement met us all along the road; men and horses lying wounded and dying; small parties of fine looking prisoners who were conducting to the line; dead bodies, useless sabres, and brazen trumpets, lay scattered here and there. But amidst all this, one sight stopped me short for a moment - it was a light, fine formed figure, cold and stiffthe pale motionless features contracted with the last spasm that had stiffened them in death, it was that of the young hussar whom I had noticed not long before. His cap was off, his soft curling brown hair was mixed with dust and blood - his broken sabre lay beside him, and he, stretched on his back, with a deep gash across his breast, lay