Motion Picture Story Magazine (Aug 1911-Jan 1912)

VANITY FAIR 27 dull roar of the cannon went rolling on. All day long, while the women were praying, ten miles away, at Waterloo, the lines of Wellington's dauntless infantry were receiving and repelling the furious charges of Napoleon's horsemen. Guns were ploughing up the British ranks, comrades were falling, and the resolute survivors were closing in. Toward evening the attack of the French slackened in its fury. They were preparing for a final onset. It came" at last : the columns of the Imperial Guard marched up the hill at Saint Jean to sweep the English from the height which they had maintained all day. Unscared by the thunder of the artillery, which hurled death from the English line, the dark rolling column pressed on and on, up the hill. It seemed to crest the eminence, when it began to wave and falter. Then it stopped, still facing the shot. Then at last the English rushed from the post from which no enemy had been able to dislodge them, and the Guard turned and fled. No more firing was heard at Brussels— the pursuit rolled miles away. Darkness came down on the field and the city, and Amelia was praying for George, who was lying on his face, dead, with a bullet thru his heart. From the tumult and glory of the victorious army after battle, to the dingy squalor of a debtor's prison, is a sharp and unpleasant descent. Captain Rawdon Crawley, altho he had been accustomed all his life to sudden changes of fortune, wTas perturbed at this swift transition. He had scarcely returned to London and established himself, with Becky, his wife, in a comfortable apartment, when the bailiffs were down upon him. Now he found himself occupying a tiny WHILE HER HUSBAND IS IX PRISON, BECK LORD STEYNE HERSELF WITH