Chapter 48 - Page 2

the consolations of that religion which only could 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, that 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 duty.

Who has not heard of the events of that fearful hour, on which the fate of
Europe hung as it were suspended in the scale? On one side 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 sank.

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 fellows unusual excitement, and
mental thanksgivings that this bloody work was at length ended. The image
of his Emily again broke over the sterner feelings of the battle, like 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 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 favorite 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 labor 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, the message was soon delivered, and