BROKEN RIBS NOT LIKELY TO PRODUCE BROKEN HEARTS--O'BRIEN MAKES SOMETHING
LIKE A DECLARATION OF PEACE--PETER SIMPLE ACTUALLY MAKES A DECLARATION
OF LOVE--RASH PROCEEDINGS ON ALL SIDES.
I followed the general into a handsomely-furnished apartment, where I
found Celeste waiting to receive me. She ran to me as soon as I
entered; and with what pleasure did I take her hand, and look on her
beautiful, expressive countenance! I could not say a word--neither did
Celeste. For a minute I held her hand in mine, looking at her; the
general stood by, regarding us alternately. He then turned round and
walked to the window. I lifted the hand to my lips, and then released
it.
"It appears to be a dream, almost," said Celeste.
I could not make any reply, but continued to gaze upon her--she had
grown up into such a beautiful creature. Her figure was perfect, and
the expression of her countenance was so varied--so full of intellect
and feeling--it was angelic. Her eyes, suffused with tears, beamed so
softly, so kindly on me, I could have fallen down and worshipped her.
"Come," said General O'Brien; "come, my dear friend, now that you have
seen Celeste, the surgeon must see you."
"The surgeon!" cried Celeste with alarm.
"Yes, my love; it is of no consequence--only a couple of ribs broken."
I followed General O'Brien out of the room, and as I came to the door, I
turned round to look at Celeste. She had retreated to the sofa, and her
handkerchief was up to her eyes. The surgeon was waiting for me; he
bandaged me, and applied some cooling lotion to my side, which made me
feel quite comfortable.
"I must now leave you," said General O'Brien; "you had better lie down
for an hour or two, and then, if I am not back, you know your way to
Celeste."
I lay down as he requested; but as soon as I heard the clatter of the
horses hoofs, as he rode off, I left the room, and hurried to the
drawing room. Celeste was there, and hastened to inquire if I was much
hurt. I replied in the negative, and told her that I had come down to
prove it to her; we then sat down on the sofa together.
"I have the misfortune never to appear before you, Celeste, except in a
very unprepossessing state. When you first saw me, I was wounded; at
our next meeting I was in woman's clothes; the last time we met I was
covered with dirt and gunpowder; and now I return to you, wounded and in
rags. I wonder wether I shall ever appear before you as a gentleman."
"It is not the clothes which make the gentleman, Peter. I am too happy
to see you to think of how you are dressed. I have never yet thanked
you for your kindness to us when we last met. My father will never
forget it."
"Nor have I thanked you, Celeste, for your kindness in dropping the
purse into the hat, when you met me trying to escape from France. I
have never forgotten you, and since we met the last time, you have
hardly ever been out of my thoughts. You don't know how thankful I am
to the hurricane for having blown me into your presence. When we
cruised in the brig, I have often examined the town with my glass,
trying to fancy that I had my eye upon the house you were in; and have
felt so happy when we were close in-shore, because I knew that I was
nearer to you."
"And, Peter, I am sure I have often watched the brig, and have been so
glad to see it come nearer and then so afraid that the batteries would
fire at you. What a pity it is that my father and you should be opposed
to each other--we might be so happy!"
"And may be yet, Celeste," replied I.
We conversed for two hours, which appeared to be but ten minutes. I
felt that I was in love, but I do not think that Celeste had any idea at
the time that she was--but I leave the reader to judge, from the little
conversation I have quoted, wether she was not, or something very much
approaching to it.
The next morning, I went out early to look for the brig, and, to my
great delight, saw her about six miles off the harbour's mouth, standing
in for the land. She had now got up very respectable jury-masts, with
topgallants for topsails, and appeared to be well under command. When
she was within three miles of the harbour, she lowered the jolly boat,
the only one she had left, and it pulled in-shore with a flag of truce
hoisted at the bows. I immediately returned to my room, and wrote a
detailed account of what had taken place, ready to send to O'Brien, when
the boat returned, and I, of course, requested him to send me my
effects, as I had nothing but what I stood in. I had just completed my
letter when General O'Brien came in.
"My dear friend," said he, "I have just received a flag of truce from
Captain O'Brien, requesting to know the fate of his boats' crews, and
permission to send in return the clothes and effects of the survivors."
"I have written down the whole circumstances for him, and made the same
request to him," replied I; and I handed him my letter. He read it
over, and returned it.
"But, my dear lad, you must think very poorly of us Frenchmen, if you
imagine that we intend to detain you here as a prisoner. In the first
place, your liberation of so many French subjects, when you captured the
_Victorine_, would entitle you to a similar act of kindness; and, in the
next place, you have not been fairly captured, but by a visitation of
Providence, which, by the means of the late storm, must destroy all
natural antipathies, and promote that universal philanthropy between all
men, which your brave fellows proved that they possess. You are,
therefore, free to depart with all your men, and we shall still hold
ourselves your debtors. How is your side to-day?"
"Oh, very bad, indeed," replied I; for I could not bear the idea of
returning to the brig so soon, for I had been obliged to quit Celeste
very soon after dinner the day before, and go to bed. I had not yet had
much conversation with her, nor had I told General O'Brien how it was
that we escaped from France. "I don't think I can possibly go on board
to-day, but I feel very grateful to you for your kindness."
"Well, well," replied the general, who observed my feelings, "I do not
think it is necessary that you should go on board to-day. I will send
the men and your letter, and I will write to Captain O'Brien to say that
you are in bed, and will not bear moving until the day after to-morrow.
Will that do?"
I thought it but a very short time, but I saw that the general looked as
if he expected me to consent; so I did.
"The boat can come and return again with some of your clothes:"
continued the general; "and I will tell Captain O'Brien that if he comes
off the mouth of the harbour the day after to-morrow, I will send you on
board in one of our boats."
He then took my letter, and quitted the room. As soon as he was gone, I
found myself quite well enough to go to Celeste, who waited for me, and
I told her what had passed. That morning I sat with her and the
general, and narrated all my adventures, which amused the general very
much. I did not conceal the conduct of my uncle, and the hopes which I
faintly entertained of being able, some day or another, to discover the
fraud which had been practised, or how very unfavourable were my future
prospects if I did not succeed. At this portion of my narrative, the
general appeared very thoughtful and grave. When I had finished it was
near dinner-time, and I found that my clothes had arrived with a letter
from O'Brien, who stated how miserable he had been at the supposition of
my loss, and his delight at my escape. He stated, that on going down
into the cabin after I had shoved off, he, by chance, cast his eyes on
the barometer, and, to his surprise, found that it had fallen two
inches, which he had been told was the case previous to a hurricane.
This, combined with the peculiar state of the atmosphere, had induced
him to make every preparation, and that they had just completed their
work when it came on. The brig was thrown on her beam ends, and lay
there for half-an-hour, when they were forced to cut away the masts to
right her. That they did not weather the point the next morning by more
than half a cable's length; and concluded by saying, that the idea of my
death had made him so unhappy, that if it had not been for the sake of
the men, it was almost a matter of indifference to him whether he had
been lost or not. He had written to General O'Brien, thanking him for
his kindness: and that, if fifty vessels should pass the brig, he would
not capture one of them, until I was on board again, even if he were
dismissed the service for neglect of duty. He said, that the brig
sailed almost as fast under jury-masts as she did before, and that, as
soon as I came on board, he should go back to Barbadoes. "As for your
ribs being so bad, Peter, that's all bother," continued he; "I know that
you are making arrangements for another sort of _rib_, as soon as you
can manage it; but you must stop a little, my boy. You shall be a lord
yet, as I always promised you that you should. It's a long lane that
has no turning--so good-bye."
When I was alone with Celeste, I showed her O'Brien's letter. I had
read the part of it relative to his not intending to make any capture
while I was on shore to General O'Brien, who replied, that "under such
circumstances he thought he should do right to detain me a little
longer; but," said he, "O'Brien is a man of honour and is worthy of his
name."
When Celeste came to that part of the letter in which O'Brien stated
that I was looking after another rib, and which I had quite forgotten,
she asked me to explain it; for although she could read and speak
English very well, she had not been sufficiently accustomed to it to
comprehend the play upon words. I translated, and then said--"Indeed,
Celeste, I had forgotten that observation of O'Brien's, or I should not
have shown you the letter; but he has stated the truth. After all your
kindness to me, how can I help being in love with you? and need I add,
that I should consider it the greatest blessing which Heaven could grant
me, if you could feel so much regard for me, as one day to become my
wife. Don't be angry with me for telling you the truth," continued I,
for Celeste coloured up as I spoke to her.
"O no! I am not angry with you, Peter; far from it. It is very
complimentary to me--what you have just said."
"I am aware," continued I, "that at present I have little to offer you--
indeed, nothing. I am not even such a match as your father might
approve of; but you know my whole history, and what my desires are."
"My dear father loves me, Peter, and he loves you too, very much--he
always did, from the hour he saw you--he was so pleased with your
candour and honesty of character. He has often told me so, and very
often talked of you."
"Well, Celeste, tell me, may I, when far away, be permitted to think of
you, and indulge a hope that some day we may meet never to part again?"
And I took Celeste by the hand, and put my arm round her waist.
"I don't know what to say," replied she, "I will speak to my father, or
perhaps you will; but I will never marry anybody else if I can help it."
I drew her close to me, and kissed her. Celeste burst into tears, and
laid her head upon my shoulder. When General O'Brien came in, I did not
attempt to move, nor did Celeste.
"General," said I, "you may think me to blame, but I have not been able
to conceal what I feel for Celeste. You may think that I am imprudent,
and that I am wrong in thus divulging what I ought to have concealed,
until I was in a situation to warrant my aspiring to your daughter's
hand; but the short time allowed me to be in her company, the fear of
losing her, and my devoted attachment, will, I trust, plead my excuse."
The general took one or two turns up and down the room, and then
replied--"What says Celeste?"
"Celeste will never do anything to make her father unhappy," replied
she, going up to him and hiding her face in his breast, with her arm
round his neck.
The general kissed his daughter, and then said, "I will be frank with
you, Mr Simple. I do not know any man whom I would prefer to you as a
son-in-law; but there are many considerations which young people are
very apt to forget. I do not interfere in your attachment, which
appears to be mutual; but at the same time, I will have no promise, and
no engagement. You may never meet again. However, Celeste is very
young, and I shall not put any constraint upon her; and at the same time
you are equally free, if time and circumstances should alter your
present feelings."
"I can ask no more, my dear sir," replied I, taking the general by the
hand: "it is candid--more than I had any reason to expect. I shall now
leave you with a contented mind; and the hopes of one day claiming
Celeste shall spur me to exertion."
"Now, if you please we will drop the subject," said the general.
"Celeste, my dear, we have a large party to dinner, as you know. You
had better retire to your room and get ready. I have asked all the
ladies that you liberated, Peter, and all their husbands and fathers, so
you will have the pleasure of witnessing how many people you made happy
by your gallantry. Now that Celeste has left the room, Peter, I must
beg that, as a man of honour, you do not exact from her any more
promises, or induce her to tie herself down to you by oaths. Her
attachment to you has grown up with her unaccountably, and she is
already too fond of you for her peace of mind, should accident or
circumstances part you for ever. Let us hope for the best, and, depend
upon it, that it shall be no trifling obstacle which will hinder me from
seeing you one day united."
I thanked the general with tears: he shook me warmly by the hand as I
gave my promise, and we separated.
How happy did I feel when I went into my room, and sat down to compose
my mind, and think over what had happened. True, at one moment, the
thought of my dependent situation threw a damp over my joy; but in the
next I was building castles, inventing a discovery of my uncle's plot,
fancying myself in possession of the title and property, and laying it
at the feet of my dear Celeste. Hope sustained my spirits, and I felt
satisfied for the present with the consideration that Celeste returned
my love. I decked myself carefully, and went down, where I found all
the company assembled. We had a very pleasant, happy party, and the
ladies entreated General O'Brien to detain me as a prisoner--very kind
of them--and I felt very much disposed to join in their request.