Joseph, who had accompanied his sister to Brussels, was also enjoying himself. He was not a soldier, but since army men were the most popular in town, he grew a very fine military moustache, in order to look as much like an army officer as possible.

Napoleon Bonaparte would be defeated, people said, almost without a struggle. Weren't the armies of Europe and the great Duke of Wellington lined up against him? Everyone had such perfect confidence in the result of the battle that the atmosphere in Brussels was one of pleasure and enjoyment. The city was full of fashionable English people, riding in the park, going to the opera, dancing and gambling the nights away.

Amelia was very happy for her first two weeks in Brussels. She was young and sweet-natured, and George's army friends thought she was "a pretty little thing". Everybody liked her and George himself was full of kind attention to his wife, buying her little gifts, and taking her out every night to a party or the opera.

They first met the Crawleys again riding in the park. Rebecca was surrounded by admirers, and when Amelia saw her dear friend, her heart sank. The sun on that clear May day suddenly seemed to shine less brightly.

"Sent me twenty pounds, damned old woman. When shall we have a game, eh? Come round on Tuesday, why not?"

But George was delighted, riding over to shake Rawdon warmly by the hand.

"Good to see you, Crawley," he said. "How are you?"

"Not yet," said George. "But he will. And I've some private fortune through my mother. What about your aunt?"

The Crawleys were at the opera that night as well. Becky was sitting in General Tufto's box, clearly a great favourite with the General, but as soon as she saw Amelia, she hurried round to see her. Such affectionate kisses! How was her dearest, best little Amelia? How pretty she was looking! And here was Mr Jos too, looking so well, and such a fine moustache! Becky smiled, and talked, and laughed, busily spreading charm all around her.

"What a slippery little snake that woman is!" honest old Dobbin murmured to George when Becky had left. "She's acting all the time, didn't you see, George?"

"All right, my boy," said Rawdon. "How's the business with your father? Has he given in?"

"When are you going to give up gambling, George?" he said.

"Acting? Nonsense! She's the nicest little woman in England," George replied. "You don't understand women, Dobbin."

Dobbin understood enough about George, however, to become anxious after a few days, when he saw how often George was playing cards with Rawdon Crawley, and losing.

Good advice is never taken, and George continued to visit the Crawleys' hotel to play cards with Captain Crawley, and to attend the little dinners given by Mrs Crawley, whose green eyes always lit up when George came into the room -- or so George liked to believe. In fact, he was convinced that Becky was in love with him, unable to resist such a handsome, charming fellow as himself. Meanwhile, Rawdon continued to beat him at cards.

"When are you going to give up criticizing me?" was the reply. "Rawdon doesn't cheat, you know. I'll start winning some games soon -- it all balances out in the end."

George's gambling was the least of Amelia's worries. The more brilliantly Rebecca shone in society, the more shy and awkward Amelia became. The more time George spent in Rebecca's company, the more miserable and lonely Amelia became. But she said nothing, and suffered in secret.

"But I don't think Crawley could pay if he lost," Dobbin said.

In June there was a grand ball, to which George and Amelia, Dobbin, and the Crawleys were all invited. After generously buying his wife a new dress and some ornaments, George took her to the ball, where she did not know anyone, put her on a chair and left her there. She was free to amuse herself as she liked, but no one came to disturb her except Dobbin.

Amelia's appearance at the ball was a failure; Mrs Crawley's appearance, however, was a brilliant success. She arrived very late. Her eyes sparkled with life, her dress was perfection. At once there was a crowd of admirers around her, begging for a dance.

But Rebecca went straight to where poor little Amelia was sitting, and in the kindest possible way, began to criticize Amelia's dress, her hair, and her shoes.

"I'll send my own dressmaker to you tomorrow," she said. "And my dear," she went on, "do stop George from gambling. He and Rawdon play cards every night, and Rawdon will win every penny from him if he does not take care. Why don't you stop him, you careless girl? Oh, look, here comes your darling husband now."

At last George came back -- for Rebecca's shawl and flowers. He took them away, but when he gave them back to their owner, there was a note, rolled up like a tiny snake among the flowers. Rebecca put out her hand to take them, and it was clear from her eyes that she knew what she would find there. She had been used to such notes from her early years. She gave him her hand and one of her quick, knowing glances, and George bowed over her hand, his heart hammering with the excitement of victory.

She turned to smile at George, who was approaching them.

And she left her shawl and her flowers by Amelia's side, and went away to dance with George. Only women know how to be so cruel. There is a poison on their sharp little knives which hurts far more than a man's blunter weapon.

"Where have you been, you wicked man?" she said. "Here is Emmy crying her eyes out for you. Have you come to fetch me for our dance?"

Amelia sat alone with her sad thoughts in her corner, unnoticed except when Rawdon came to offer a few words of clumsy conversation, and when Dobbin brought her food and drink, and sat with her for a time.

"Hallo, Dob! Come and drink, Dob!" George called out.

Amelia saw the glance, and suddenly it was too much.

Dobbin came close to George and whispered in his ear. At once George banged his glass down on the table and, taking his friend's arm, walked quickly away with him. "The enemy has advanced," Dobbin had said. "The fighting has already begun. Come away -- we march in three hours."

George, meanwhile, wild with excitement, had been gambling and had then gone to spend his winnings on drink. Dobbin found him with a glass in his hand, and red in the face.

"William," she said to Dobbin, who was near her, "you've always been kind to me -- I'm -- I'm not well. Take me home."

He went away with her quickly. The streets seemed noisier and more crowded than usual, but the hotel was not far, and they soon reached it. Amelia went straight to bed.

"Come away, George," Dobbin said quietly. "Don't drink."

Back in his hotel, George thought about a thousand things -- his past life -- his chances in war -- his wife -- the child, perhaps, whom he might never see. Oh, how he wished that note to Becky had never been written, and that he could say goodbye without guilt to the gentle girl whose love he had valued so little!

"Have a drink, old boy," George said. "Stop being so serious."

He thought over his short married life. He had wasted all his money. Why had he been so wild and careless? If he was killed, what would be left for her? He was not good enough for her. Poor Emmy. He should never have married her. Why hadn't he obeyed his father, who had always been so generous to him?

Full of selfish regret, he sat down and wrote a last letter to his father. By the time he had finished, it was almost day. He went into the bedroom and looked down at Amelia's sweet, pale face. How pure and innocent she was, and how badly he had treated her! How selfish he was! Sick with shame, he watched the sleeping girl, then bent down to kiss that pale cheek.

And at that moment outside the window the bugles sounded, and the drums began to beat. The city was waking up to war.

In another hotel the Crawleys were also saying their goodbyes. Rawdon truly loved Becky and had known real happiness in his marriage. He was anxious for the future, and much more affected by the parting than his brave little wife who, having wisely decided to be calm and sensible, tried to laugh away his fears.

Two pretty little arms closed gently round his neck. "I am awake, George," the poor girl said, her eyes full of tears.

"Now, let's see," said Rawdon, comforted. "I've had some luck at the card-tables, and here's two hundred and thirty pounds. I won't take my horses -- I'll ride one of the General's. If I'm hit, you can sell them -- should get a good price for them."

"It's no laughing matter, Mrs Crawley," her husband said, sounding hurt. "I'm a big man, easy to shoot at. And if I drop, I want to be sure you'll be all right."

Becky became serious at once. "Dearest love," she said softly, "do you suppose I feel nothing?" She quickly wiped her eyes, then smiled lovingly at her husband.

And Rawdon Crawley, who had seldom thought about anyone but himself until these last few months, wrote down a list of all the things Rebecca could sell if he was killed. Then he put on his oldest uniform, leaving the best for Rebecca to sell, and before he left, he picked her up in his arms and held her close to his heart. His eyes were clouded, as he put her down and left her.

Rebecca waved goodbye to him from the window, and stood there for a moment looking out after he was gone. The sun was just rising as she turned away from the window, and saw on a table her flowers from the ball. She picked them up, and saw the little note pushed in between them. With a smile, she took the note out and locked it away in her little writing desk. Then she put the flowers in water, went to bed, and slept deeply.

"I didn't want to go without saying goodbye," he said.

Joseph Sedley, of course, was not a soldier and had no goodbyes to say. However, he was disturbed from his sleep before daybreak by Captain Dobbin, who insisted on shaking hands with him.

She carefully locked away all her possessions, but kept out a cheque from George Osborne for gambling debts. This made her think of Mrs Osborne. "I'll get the cheque cashed," she said to herself, "and pay a visit afterwards to poor little Emmy."

"Very kind of you," said Jos, yawning, and rubbing his eyes.

It was ten o'clock when she woke, and after drinking her coffee, she continued Rawdon's list, adding to it all the gifts and jewellery she had received from her admirers. She was pleased to find that if her husband did not return, she would have quite a useful amount of money.

"Some of us -- well, some of us may not come back again -- and -- and I want to be sure that you'll all be all right."

Jos and the Osbornes shared a sitting-room in their hotel apartment, and while Dobbin was speaking, he kept walking up and down, glancing through the open door of Jos's bedroom into the sitting-room, hoping desperately for a last sight of Amelia.

Jos stared at his visitor as he marched up and down. "What can I do for you, Dobbin?" he said at last, rather crossly.

"I'll tell you what you can do," Dobbin said. "George and I may never come back. You are not to move from this town until you know what has happened. You are to watch over your sister, and comfort her, and make sure that no harm comes to her. Remember, if anything happens to George, she has no one but you. You must promise me that you will never leave her."

"Of course I'll take care of my sister," answered Jos.

"And you must see that she gets safely out of Brussels and back to England in the event of a defeat."

"Defeat! Don't try and frighten me," cried our hero, in his bed.

At that moment Dobbin had the opportunity he wanted so much -- to see Amelia's face again. But what a face -- so white, so wild, so despairing! Shocked, Dobbin stood and watched her, torn with pity for such helpless, speechless misery.

Wrapped in a white morning dress and with her hair hanging loose, Amelia was trying to help George as he did his packing. At last, however, George took her hand and led her back into the bedroom. He came out alone, and hurried away.

"Thank heaven that's over," he thought, running downstairs to join the regiment, who were gathering in the street below.

The sun was just rising as the soldiers marched away. It was a brave sight, with the band playing, and the bright flags flying, and George marching proudly at the head of his company. He looked up, and smiled at Amelia, and passed on; and even the sound of the music died away.

Jos, who had felt quite brave and confident in the morning, now began to fear the worst. He was just putting on his coat to go out for the latest news on the street, when Rebecca arrived to visit Amelia. Her smiling face, refreshed by her quiet sleep, was pleasant to see in a town where everyone else looked anxious.

"Are you leaving us to join the army, Mr Joseph?" she said, looking at his coat, which was cut in a military style. "How brave you are! But then who will be left to protect us poor women? Oh, please don't leave us, Mr Joseph!"

All day Brussels waited for news of the battle. Stories flew around the city -- Napoleon's army was advancing, the Duke of Wellington was wounded, the British had suffered great losses. Shops closed, and soon carriages began to leave the city.

Presently, Rebecca left him, confident of her place in his carriage, and went to tap gently at the door of his sister's room.

What Rebecca really meant was, "Sir, you have a comfortable carriage, and if the army is defeated and we have to leave Brussels, I would like a seat in it."

Jos had been deeply offended by Rebecca's treatment of him in Brussels. She had paid little attention to him, and had not invited him to her parties. "She only wants me when there is no one else," he thought. But a vain man is always pleased to be called brave, and wiser men than Jos Sedley have been fooled by women. A few soft words, some admiring glances from those sparkling green eyes, and it was not long before Jos's heart was beating fast, and his doubts and suspicions were all forgotten.

Her appearance struck Amelia with terror. It brought her back to the real world, and reminded her of the jealous misery that had been forgotten in the pain of parting from her adored husband. And when Rebecca came forward to kiss her, Amelia, her pale face suddenly red with anger, returned Rebecca's look with a steadiness that rather surprised her visitor.

"Don't be upset, dear Amelia," she said. "I only came to see if I could -- if you were well."

This worried Rebecca. "She must have seen him give me the letter at the ball," she thought.

"Dearest Amelia, you are not well." Rebecca put out her hand to take Amelia's. "I could not rest until I knew how you were."

Amelia did not take the offered hand. "Why are you here, Rebecca?" she said, looking at her with her large eyes.

"Amelia, I swear that I have done my husband no wrong."

"Are you well?" said Amelia. "I'm sure you are. You don't love your husband. You would not be here if you did. Tell me, Rebecca, was I ever unkind to you?"

"Have you done me no wrong, Rebecca? You did not succeed, but you tried."

"When you were poor, I was your friend. George loved me. He gave up his fortune and his family to marry me, to make me happy. Why did you come between us? His love was everything to me. You knew it, and wanted to steal it from me. You are a wicked woman, Rebecca -- a false friend and a false wife!"

"Indeed, Amelia, no," Rebecca said, looking away from her.

"He came back to me. Your tricks and lies could not keep him for long. But what have I done to you? Why did you try to take him from me?" Amelia's voice became wilder. "And now he's gone. But he will come back. He promised me to come back."

Amelia walked to a chair and knelt beside it. "He was here," she said. "He sat here, in this chair." She seemed to have forgotten Rebecca's presence, and began to stroke the arm of the chair.

She knows nothing, Rebecca thought.

She did, in fact, like Amelia, and felt some pity for her. She thought of the little note locked away in her writing desk. "Poor thing! That note would destroy her. Why does she break her heart for a man who is stupid -- and who does not care for her?"

By late afternoon the sound of gunfire could be heard in the city, and few people had much sleep that night. The next day brought wounded soldiers returning from the battlefield, with reports of regiments destroyed, and Napoleon closing in on Brussels.

Rebecca turned and left the room silently. "How is she?" asked Jos, who was still sitting in the sitting-room.

"He will come back, my dear," said Rebecca, gently.

"There should be somebody with her," said Rebecca. "I think she is very unwell." And she went away, with a very serious face.

Like many others, Joseph Sedley was now desperate to leave, but his servant told him there were no horses to hire or to buy anywhere in the city. Wild with terror, Jos shaved off his moustache, in case the enemy thought he was a soldier, and set out into the city to search for horses himself.

As he passed Rebecca's hotel, he caught sight of her and hurried over. By now, the two horses which Rawdon had left behind were extremely valuable, and one look at Jos's fat, frightened face told Rebecca that she had found a buyer who would pay whatever price she asked.

"There's a seat for her in my carriage," gasped Jos. "And for you, dear Mrs Crawley, if only I can find horses!"

"What! Are you leaving, Mr Sedley?" she said, with a laugh. "And Amelia? Who is to protect your poor little sister?"

That night there was more encouraging news of the battle, but by Sunday morning the guns of Waterloo began to roar. When Jos heard that dreadful sound, he could bear it no longer.

Jos nearly wept for joy. The business was soon done, and Jos was obliged to part with an enormous amount of money.

"I have two to sell," said Becky. "But they're not carriage horses. You'll have to ride them."

"You must come with me, Emmy!" he cried, rushing into her room. "I have bought a horse for you. You must come!"

"Without my husband, Joseph?" Amelia said, with a look of wonder. But Jos's patience was at an end.

"Goodbye, then," he shouted angrily, banging the door shut as he left. And he got on his horse, and with his servant he rode away out of Brussels, leaving his sister behind him.

All that day, from morning until past sunset, the guns roared, and the women prayed for their husbands and lovers. On a hill on the battlefield the lines of English foot-soldiers stood firm against the furious attacks of the French, who were forced to fall back again and again. In the evening, the French made a final big attack. Then at last the English roared down from the hill-top which they had held all day, and the enemy turned and ran.

In Brussels the guns could be heard no more. Darkness came down on the battlefield and on the city; and Amelia was praying for George, who was lying on his face, dead, with a bullet through his heart.