the couch, fast asleep, and so set my list down beside him and went away. He had had poor Gordon put into his bed, you know. Ah, that has been a sad business! There was nothing one could do except to wait for death to put a period to his sufferings. The end came at three o'clock. I went to call the Duke, but it was over before he could get there. I never saw him so much affected. People call him unfeeling, but I can tell you this: when I went to him after he had read the list of casualties there were two white furrows down his cheeks where his tears had washed away the dust. He said to me in a voice tremulous with emotion: 'Well! thank God I don't know what it is to lose a battle, but certainly nothing can be more painful than to win one with the loss of so many of one's friends.'
Judith saw that Colonel Audley was too much distressed by the thought of Gordon's death to respond, and said civilly: 'Nothing, I am sure, could become the Duke more than the way in which he spoke to us of his victory. I have not been used to think him a man of much sensibility, and was quite confounded.
'Sensibility! Ay, I daresay not, but General Alava was telling me it was downright pathetic to watch him, as he sat down to his supper last night, looking up every time the door opened, in the expectation of seeing one of his staff walk in.' He straightened his back, saying with a reversion to his hearty tone: 'There! I have done tormenting you at last! You will be on your feet again as soon as Lord Fitzroy, I promise you.'
He turned to give some directions to the other surgeon; recommended the application of leeches, if there should be a recurrence of fever; and took himself off, leaving the Colonel very much exhausted and the ladies quite indignant.
His visit was presently found, however, to have been of benefit to Audley. He seemed easier, and assisted by a dose of laudanum, passed as quiet a night as could have been expected.
When Barbara came into his room in the morning, she found him being propped up with pillows to partake of a breakfast of toasted bread and weak tea.
He held out his hand to her. The old gaiety was missing from his smile, but he spoke cheerfully. 'Good morning, Bab. You see that I have rebelled against your gruel! Now you shall watch how deedily I can contrive with my one hand.'
She bent over him, and to hide her almost overmastering desire to burst into tears, said with assumed raillery: 'Ah, you hope to impress me, but I warn you, you won't succeed! You have already had a great deal of practice in the use of one hand!'
He put the one hand to turn her face towards him and kissed her. 'That's too bad! I had hoped to hold you spellbound by my adroitness. Will you oblige me by going to the dressing-table and opening the little drawer under the mirror?'
'Certainly,' she replied. 'What do you want from it, my darling?'
'You'll see,' he said, picking up one of his slices of toast and dipping it in the tea. She opened the drawer, and found a small box in it, containing her engagement ring. She said nothing, but brought the ring to the Colonel, smiling, but with quivering lips. He took it, and commanded her to hold out her hand. The ring slid over her knuckle, but the Colonel still retained her hand, saying quietly: 'That stays there until I give you another in its place, Bab.'
She dropped on her knees, burying her face in his shoulder. 'Charles, dear Charles, I shall make you such a damnable wife! Oh, only tell me that you forgive me!'
He gave a rather shaky laugh, and put his arm round her. 'Who is the 'dear fool' now?' he said. 'Oh, Bab, Bab, just look what I have done!'
Judith came in a minute later to find Barbara, between tears and laughter, mopping up the spilt tea on the sheet, and exclaimed: 'Well! This does not look like a sick-room!'
Barbara held out her hand. 'Congratulate me, Judith! I have just become engaged to your brother-in- law!'
'Oh, my love, of course you have!' Judith cried, embracing her. 'Charles, this time I congratulate you with all my heart!'
'Thank you!' he said, with rather a surprised look. 'What's the news in the town today? How do Fitzroy and Billy go on?'
'I have not heard, but of course we shall call to make enquiries later on. The Duke has driven out in his curricle to rejoin the Army, at Nivelles. We understand he has taken Colonel Felton Hervey on as his military secretary, until Lord Fitzroy is well enough to go back.'
'A one-armed man!'
'Yes, and that is what touches one so much. There is a delicacy in such a gesture: Lord Fitzroy must be sensible of it, I am sure! I never thought to like the Duke as well as I have done ever since he called here yesterday.'
The Colonel smiled, but merely replied: 'He must be worse off than ever for staff officers. I pity the poor devils remaining: they'll find him damned crusty!'
Judith was quite put out by this prosaic remark, but Colonel Audley knew his Chief better than she did.
The Duke, rejoining his disorganised Army at Nivelles, found much to annoy him. He was displeased with the conduct of various sections of his staff, and quite incensed by the discovery that Sir George Wood, who commanded the Royal Artillery, had, instead of securing the captured French guns, allowed a number of them to be seized by the Prussians. That was a little too much; those guns must be recovered, and there would be no peace for Wood or Fraser till they had been recovered.
His lordship, no longer a demi-god but only a much harassed man, sat down to write his instructions for the movement of his Army. There was no difficulty about that: the instructions were compressed into four succinct paragraphs, and borne off by a trembling gentleman of the Quartermaster-General's staff.
His lordship dipped his pen in the ink and began to compose his first General Order since the battle. The pen moved slowly, in stiff, reluctant phrases.
'The Field Marshall takes this opportunity of returning to the Army his thanks for their conduct in the glorious action fought on the 18th instant, and he will not fail to report his sense of their conduct in the terms which it deserves to their several Sovereigns.'
His lordship read that through, and decided that it would do. He wrote the figure 3 in the margin, and started another paragraph. His pen began to move faster:
'The Field Marshal has observed that several soldiers, and even officers, have quitted their ranks without leave, and have gone to Bruxelles, and even some to Antwerp, where, and in the country through which they have passed, they have spread a false alarm, in a manner highly unmilitary, and derogatory to the character of soldiers.'
The pen was flowing perfectly easily now. His lordship continued without a check:
'The Field Marshal requests the General officers commanding divisions in the British Army… to report to him in writing what officers and men (the former by name) are now or have been absent without leave since the 16th instant…'
