Chapter XLIX
Broken ribs not likely to produce broken hearts--O'Brien makes somethingvery like a declaration of peace--Peter Simple actually makes adeclaration of love--Rash proceedings on all sides.
I followed the general into a handsomely furnished apartment, where Ifound 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 beautifulexpressive countenance! I could not say a word--neither did Celeste. Fora minute I held her hand in mine, looking at her; the general stood byregarding us alternately. He then turned round, and walked to thewindow. 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 hadgrown up into such a beautiful creature. Her figure was perfect, and theexpression of her countenance was so varied--so full of intellect andfeeling--it was angelic. Her eyes, suffused with tears, beamed sosoftly, so kindly on me, I could have fallen down and worshipped her.
"Come," said General O'Brien; "come, my dear friend, now that you haveseen 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 Iturned round to look at Celeste. She had retreated to the sofa, and herhandkerchief was up to her eyes. The surgeon was waiting for me; hebandaged me, and applied some cooling lotion to my side, which made mefeel quite comfortable.
"I must now leave you," said General O'Brien; "you had better lie downfor an hour or two, and then, if I am not back, you know your way toCeleste."
I lay down as he requested; but as soon as I heard the clatter of thehorse's hoofs, as he rode off, I left the room, and hurried to thedrawing-room. Celeste was there, and hastened to inquire if I was muchhurt. I replied in the negative, and told her that I had come down toprove it to her; and we then sat down on the sofa together.
"I have the misfortune never to appear before you, Celeste, except in avery unprepossessing state. When you first saw me I was wounded; at ournext meeting I was in woman's clothes; the last time we met I wascovered with dirt and gunpowder; and now I return to you wounded and inrags. I wonder whether I shall ever appear before you as a gentleman?"
"It is not the clothes which make the gentleman, Peter. I am too happyto see you to think of how you are dressed. I have never yet thanked youfor your kindness to us when we last met. My father will never forgetit."
"Nor have I thanked you, Celeste, for your kindness in dropping thepurse into the hat, when you met me, trying to escape from France. Ihave never forgotten you, and since we met the last time, you havehardly ever been out of my thoughts. You don't know how thankful I am tothe hurricane for having blown me into your presence. When we cruised inthe brig, I have often examined the town with my glass, trying to fancythat I had my eye upon the house you were in; and have felt so happywhen we were close in shore, because I knew that I was nearer to you."
"And, Peter, I have often watched the brig, and have been so glad to seeit 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 eachother--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 feltthat I was in love, but I do not think that Celeste had any idea at thetime that she was--but I leave the reader to judge from the littleconversation I have quoted, whether she was not, or something very muchapproaching to it.
The next morning I went out early to look for the brig, and, to my greatdelight, saw her about six miles off the harbour's mouth, standing infor the land. She had now got up very respectable jury-masts, withtopgallants for topsails, and appeared to be well under command. Whenshe 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 trucehoisted at the bows. I immediately returned to my room, and wrote adetailed account of what had taken place, ready to send to O'Brien whenthe boat returned, and I, of course, requested him to send me myeffects, as I had nothing but what I stood in. I had just completed myletter when General O'Brien came in.
"My dear friend," said he, "I have just received a flag of truce fromCaptain O'Brien, requesting to know the fate of his boats' crews, andpermission to send in return the clothes and effects of the survivors."
"I have written down the whole circumstances for him, and made the samerequest to him," replied I; and I handed him my letter. He read it overand returned it.
"But, my dear lad, you must think very poorly of us Frenchmen, if youimagine that we intend to detain you here as a prisoner. In the firstplace, your liberation of so many French subjects, when you captured the_Victorine_, would entitle you to a similar act of kindness; and, in thenext place, you have not been fairly captured, but by a visitation ofProvidence, which, by the means of the late storm, must destroy allnational antipathies, and promote that universal philanthropy betweenall men, which your brave fellows proved that they possess. You are,therefore, free to depart with all your men, and we shall still holdourselves your debtors. How is your side to-day?"
"Oh, very bad, indeed," replied I; for I could not bear the idea ofreturning to the brig so soon, for I had been obliged to quit Celestevery soon after dinner the day before, and go to bed. I had not yet hadmuch conversation with her, nor had I told General O'Brien how it wasthat we escaped from France. "I don't think I can possibly go on boardto-day, but I feel very grateful to you for your kindness."
"Well, well," replied the general, who observed my feelings, "I do notthink it is necessary that you should go on board to-day. I will sendthe men and your letter, and I will write to Captain O'Brien, to saythat you are in bed, and will not bear moving until the day aftertomorrow. Will that do?"
I thought it but a very short time, but I saw that the general looked asif 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 comesoff the mouth of the harbour the day after to-morrow, I will send you onboard in one of our boats."
He then took my letter and quitted the room. As soon as he was gone Ifound myself quite well enough to go to Celeste, who waited for me, andI 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. Idid not conceal the conduct of my uncle, and the hopes which I faintlyentertained of being able, some day or another, to discover the fraudwhich had been practised, or how very unfavourable were my futureprospects if I did not succeed. At this portion of my narrative thegeneral appeared very thoughtful and grave. When I had finished, it wasnear dinner time, and I found that my clothes had arrived with a letterfrom O'Brien, who stated how miserable he had been at the supposition ofmy loss, and his delight at my escape. He stated that on going down intothe cabin, after I had shoved off, he, by chance, cast his eyes on thebarometer, 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 tomake every preparation, and that they had just completed their work whenit came on. The brig was thrown on her beam ends, and lay there for halfan hour, when they were forced to cut away the masts to right her. Thatthey did not weather the point the next morning by more than half acable's length; and concluded by saying, that the idea of my death hadmade him so unhappy that, if it had not been for the sake of the men, itwas almost a matter of indifference to him whether he had been lost ornot. He had written to General O'Brien, thanking him for his kindness;and that, if fifty vessels should pass the brig, he would not captureone of them, until I was on board again, even if he were dismissed theservice for neglect of duty. He said, that the brig sailed almost asfast under jury-masts as she
did before, and that, as soon as I came onboard, 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 makingarrangements 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 alwayspromised you that you should. It's a long lane that has no turning--sogood-bye."
When I was alone with Celeste, I showed her O'Brien's letter. I had readthe part of it relative to his not intending to make any capture while Iwas on shore to General O'Brien, who replied, "that under suchcircumstances he thought' he should do right to detain me a littlelonger but," said he, "O'Brien is a man of honour, and worthy of hisname."
When Celeste came to that part of the letter in which O'Brien statedthat I was looking after another rib, and which I had quite forgotten,she asked me to explain it; for, although she could read and speakEnglish very well, she had not been sufficiently accustomed to it tocomprehend the play upon words. I translated, and then said, "Indeed,Celeste, I had forgotten that observation of O'Brien's, or I should nothave shown you the letter; but he has stated the truth. After all yourkindness 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 grantme, if you could feel so much regard for me as one day to become mywife! Don't be angry with me for telling you the truth," continued I,for Celeste coloured up as I spoke to her.
"Oh, no! I am not angry with you, Peter; far from it. It is verycomplimentary 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 approveof; but you know my whole history, and what my desires are."
"My dear father loves me, Peter, and he loves you too, very much--healways did, from the hour he saw you--he was so pleased with yourcandour and honesty of character. He has often told me so, and veryoften talked of you."
"Well, Celeste, tell me,--may I when far away, be permitted to think ofyou, 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, orperhaps you will; but I will never marry anybody else, if I can helpit."
I drew her close to me, and kissed her. Celeste burst into tears, andlaid her head upon my shoulder. When General O'Brien came I did notattempt to move, nor did Celeste.
"General," said I, "you may think me to blame, but I have not been ableto 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'shand; but the short time allowed me to be in her company, the fear oflosing her, and my devoted attachment, will, I trust, plead my excuse."
The general took one or two turns up and down the room, and thenreplied, "What says Celeste?"
"Celeste will never do anything to make her father unhappy," repliedshe, going up to him and hiding her face in his breast, with her armround his neck.
The general kissed his daughter, and then said, "I will be frank withyou, Mr Simple. I do not know any man whom I would prefer to you as ason-in-law; but there are many considerations which young people arevery apt to forget. I do not interfere in your attachment, which appearsto be mutual; but, at the same time, I will have no promise and noengagement, you may never meet again. However, Celeste is very young,and I shall not put any constraint upon her; and at the same time youare equally free, if time and circumstances should alter your presentfeelings."
"I can ask no more, my dear sir," replied I, taking the general by thehand; "it is candid--more than I had any reason to expect. I shall nowleave you with a contented mind, and the hopes of one day claimingCeleste 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 hadbetter retire to your room and get ready. I have asked all the ladiesthat you liberated, Peter, and all their husbands and fathers; so youwill have the pleasure of witnessing how many people you made happy byyour gallantry. Now that Celeste has left the room, Peter, I must begthat, 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 youhas grown up with her unaccountably, and she is already too fond of youfor her peace of mind, should accident or circumstances part you forever. Let us hope for the best, and depend upon it that it shall be notrifling 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 Igave my promise, and we separated.
How happy did I feel when I went into my room, and sat down to composemy mind and think over what had happened. True, at one moment thethought of my dependent situation threw a damp over my joy; but in thenext I was building castles, inventing a discovery of my uncle's plot,fancying myself in possession of the title and property, and laying itat the feet of my dear Celeste. Hope sustained my spirits, and I feltsatisfied for the present with the consideration that Celeste returnedmy love. I decked myself carefully, and went down, where I found all thecompany assembled. We had a very pleasant, happy party, and the ladiesentreated General O'Brien to detain me as a prisoner--very kind of them--and I felt very much disposed to join in their request.