"This is well," said the general. "Peter, I wish you joy; and, Celeste, I ought to wish you joy also, at your future prospects. It will indeed be a gratification if ever I hail you as Lady Privilege."

"Celeste," said I, "you did not reject me when I was penniless, and in disgrace. O my poor sister Ellen! if I could but find you, how happy should I be!"

I sat down to write to O'Brien, acquainting him with all that had occurred, and the loss of my dear sister. The day after the receipt of my letter, O'Brien burst into the room. After the first moments of congratulation were past, he said, "My heart's broke, Peter, about your sister Ellen: find her I must. I shall give up my ship, for I'll never give up the search as long as I live. I must find her."

"Do, pray, my dear O'Brien, and I only wish--"

"Wish what, Peter? shall I tell you what I wish?--that if I find her; you'll give her to me for my trouble."

We then turned round to General O'Brien and Celeste.

"Captain O'Brien," said the general.

"Sir Terence O'Brien, if you please, general. His Majesty has given me a handle to my name."

"I congratulate you, Sir Terence," said the general, shaking him by the hand; "what I was about to say is, that I hope you will take up your quarters at this hotel, and we will all live together. I trust we shall soon find Ellen: in the meanwhile, we have no time to lose, in our exposure of Lord Privilege. Is the woman in town?"

"Yes, and under lock and key; but the devil a fear of her. Millions would not bribe her to wrong him who risked his life for her husband.

She's Irish, general, to the back-bone. Nevertheless, Peter, we must go to our solicitor, to give the intelligence, that he may take the necessary steps."

For three weeks, O'Brien was diligent in his search for Ellen, employing every description of emissary without success. In the meanwhile, the general and I were prosecuting our cause against Lord Privilege. One morning, Lord Belmore called upon us, and asked the general if we would accompany him to the theatre, to see two celebrated pieces performed.

In the latter, which was a musical farce, a new performer was to come out of whom report spoke highly. Celeste consented, and after an early dinner, we joined his lordship in his private box, which was above the stage, on the first tier. The first piece was played, and Celeste, who had never seen the performance of Young, was delighted. The curtain then drew up for the second piece. In the second act, the new performer, a Miss Henderson, was led by the manager on the stage; she was apparently much frightened and excited, but three rounds of applause gave her courage, and she proceeded. At the very first notes of her voice I was startled, and O'Brien, who was behind, threw himself forward to look at her; but as we were almost directly above, and her head was turned the other way, we could not distinguish her features. As she proceeded in her song, she gained courage, and her face was turned towards us, and she cast her eyes up--saw me--the recognition was mutual--I held out my arm, but could not speak--she staggered, and fell down in a swoon.

"'Tis Ellen!" cried O'Brien, rushing past me; and, making one spring down on the stage, he carried her off, before any other person could come to her a.s.sistance. I followed him, and found him with Ellen still in his arms, and the actresses a.s.sisting in her recovery. The manager came forward to apologise, stating that the young lady was too ill to proceed, and the audience, who had witnessed the behaviour of O'Brien and myself, were satisfied with the romance in real life which had been exhibited. Her part was read by another, but the piece was little attended to, every one trying to find out the occasion of this uncommon occurrence. In the meantime, Ellen was put into a hackney-coach by O'Brien and me, and we drove to the hotel, where we were soon joined by the general and Celeste.

CHAPTER SIXTY FIVE.

IT NEVER RAINS BUT IT POURS, WHETHER IT BE GOOD OR BAD NEWS--I SUCCEED IN EVERYTHING, AND TO EVERYTHING, MY WIFE, MY t.i.tLE, AND ESTATE--AND "ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL."

I shall pa.s.s over the scenes which followed, and give my sister's history in her own words.

"I wrote to you, my dear Peter, to tell you that I had considered it my duty to pay all my father's debts with your money, and that there were but sixty pounds left when every claim had been satisfied; and I requested you to come to me as soon as you could, that I might have your counsel and a.s.sistance as to my future arrangements."

"I received your letter, Ellen, and was hastening to you, when--but no matter I will tell my story afterwards."

"Day after day I waited with anxiety for a letter, and then wrote to the officers of the ship to know if any accident had occurred. I received an answer from the surgeon, informing me that you had quitted Portsmouth to join me, and had not since been heard of. You may imagine my distress at this communication, as I did not doubt but that something dreadful had occurred, as I know, too well, that nothing would have detained you from me at such a time. The new vicar appointed, had come down to look over the house, and to make arrangements for bringing in his family. The furniture he had previously agreed to take at a valuation, and the sum had been appropriated in liquidation of our father's debts. I had already been permitted to remain longer than was usual, and had no alternative but to quit, which I did not do until the last moment. I could not leave my address, for I knew not where I was to go. I took my place in the coach, and arrived in London. My first object was to secure the means of livelihood, by offering myself as a governess; but I found great difficulties from not being able to procure a good reference, and from not having already served in that capacity.

At last I was taken into a family to bring up three little girls; but I soon found out how little chance I had of comfort. The lady had objected to me as too good-looking--for this same reason the gentleman insisted upon my being engaged.

"Thus was I a source of disunion--the lady treated me with great harshness, and the gentleman with too much attention. At last, her ill-treatment, and his persecution, were both so intolerable, that I gave notice that I should leave my situation."

"I beg your pardon, Miss Ellen, but will you oblige me with the name and residence of that gentleman?" said O'Brien.

"Indeed, Ellen, do no such thing," replied I; "continue your story."

"At last I was engaged as teacher to a school. I had better have taken a situation as housemaid. I was expected to be everywhere, to do everything--was up at daylight, and never in bed till past midnight: fared very badly, and was equally ill-paid--but still it was honest employment, and I remained there for more than a year; but, though as economical as possible, my salary would not maintain me in clothes and washing, which was all I required. There was a master of elocution, who came every week, and whose wife was the teacher of music. They took a great liking to me, and pointed out how much better I should be off, if I could succeed on the stage, of which they had no doubt. For months I refused, hoping still to have some tidings of you; but at last my drudgery became so insupportable, and my means so decreased, that I unwillingly consented.

"It was then nineteen months since I had heard of you, and I mourned you as dead. I had no relations except my uncle, and I was unknown even to him. I quitted the situation, and took up my abode with the teacher of elocution and his wife, who treated me with every kindness, and prepared me for my new career. Neither at the school, which was three miles from London, nor at my new residence, which was over Westminster-bridge, did I ever see a newspaper; it was no wonder, therefore, that I did not know of your advertis.e.m.e.nts. After three months' preparation I was recommended and introduced to the manager by my kind friends, and accepted. You know the rest."

"Well, Miss Ellen, if any one ever tells you that you were on the stage, at all events you may reply that you wasn't there long."

My sister had been with us about three days, during which I had informed her of all that had taken place, when, one evening finding myself alone with her, I candidly stated to her what were O'Brien's feelings towards her, and pleaded his cause with all the earnestness in my power.

"My dear brother," replied she, "I have always admired Captain O'Brien's character, and always have felt grateful to him for his kindness and attachment to you; but I cannot say that I love him--I have never thought about him, except as one to whom we are both much indebted."

"But do you mean to say that you could not love him?"

"No, I do not: and I will do all I can, Peter--I will try--I never will, if possible, make him unhappy who has been so kind to you."

"Depend upon it, Ellen, that with your knowledge of O'Brien, and with feelings of grat.i.tude to him, you will soon love him, if once you accept him as a suitor. May I tell him--"

"You may tell him that he may plead his own cause, my dear brother; and, at all events, I will listen to no other, until he has had fair play; but recollect, that at present I only _like_ him--like him _very much_, it is true--but still I only _like_ him."

I was quite satisfied with my success, and so was...o...b..ien, when I told him.

"By the powers, Peter, she's an angel, and I can't expect her to love an inferior being like myself; but if she'll only like me well enough to marry me, I'll trust to after-marriage for the rest."

O'Brien having thus obtained permission, certainly lost no time in taking advantage of it. Celeste and I were more fondly attached every day. The solicitor declared my case so good, that he could raise fifty thousand pounds upon it. In short, all our causes were prosperous, when an event occurred, the details of which, of course, I did not obtain until some time afterwards, but which I shall narrate here.

My uncle was very much alarmed when he discovered that I had been released from Bedlam--still more so, when he had notice given him of a suit, relative to the succession to the t.i.tle. His emissaries had discovered that the wet-nurse had been brought home in O'Brien's frigate, and was kept so close that they could not communicate with her.

He now felt that all his schemes would prove abortive. His legal adviser was with him, and they had been walking in the garden, talking over the contingencies, when they stopped close to the drawing-room windows of the mansion at Eagle Park.

"But, sir," observed the lawyer, "if you will not confide in me, I cannot act for your benefit. You still a.s.sert that nothing of the kind has taken place?"

"I do," replied his lordship. "It is a foul invention."

"Then, my lord, may I ask you why you considered it advisable to imprison Mr Simple in Bedlam?"

"Because I hate him," retorted his lordship,--"detest him."

"And for what reason, my lord? his character is unimpeached, and he is your near relative."

"I tell you, sir, that I hate him--would that he were now lying dead at my feet!"

Hardly were the words out of my uncle's mouth, when a whizzing was heard for a second, and then something fell down within a foot of where they stood, with a heavy crash. They started--turned round--the adopted heir lay lifeless at their feet, and their legs were bespattered with his blood and his brains. The poor boy, seeing his lordship below, had leaned out of one of the upper windows to call to him, but lost his balance, and had fallen head foremost upon the wide stone pavement which surrounded the mansion. For a few seconds, the lawyer and my uncle looked upon each other with horror.

"A judgment!--a judgment!" cried the lawyer at last, looking at his client. My uncle covered his face with his hands, and fell. a.s.sistance now came out, but there was more than one to help up. The violence of his emotion had brought on an apoplectic fit, and my uncle, although he breathed, never spoke again.

It was in consequence of this tragical event, of which we did not know the particulars until afterwards, that the next morning my solicitor called, and put a letter into my hand, saying, "Allow me to congratulate your lordship." We were all at breakfast at the time, and the general, O'Brien, and myself jumped up, all in such astonishment at this unexpected t.i.tle being so soon conferred upon me, that we had a heavy bill for damages to pay; and had not Ellen caught the tea-urn, as it was tipped over, there would, in all probability, have been a doctor's bill into the bargain. The letter was eagerly read--it was from my uncle's legal adviser, who had witnessed the catastrophe, informing me, that all dispute as to the succession was at an end by the tragical event that had taken place, and that he had put seals upon everything awaiting my arrival or instructions. The solicitor, as he presented the letter, said that he would take his leave, and call again in an hour or two, when I was more composed. My first movement, when I had read the letter aloud, was to throw my arms round Celeste and embrace her--and O'Brien, taking the hint, did the same to Ellen, and was excused in consideration of circ.u.mstances; but, as soon as she could disengage herself her arms were entwined round my neck, while Celeste was hanging on her father's.

Having disposed of the ladies, the gentlemen now shook hands, and although we had not all appet.i.tes to finish our breakfasts, never was there a happier quintette.

In about an hour my solicitor returned, and congratulated me, and immediately set about the necessary preparations. I desired him to go down immediately to Eagle Park, attend to the funeral of my uncle, and the poor little boy who had paid so dearly for his intended advancement, and take charge from my uncle's legal adviser, who remained in the house. The "dreadful accident in high life" found its way into the papers of the day, and before dinner-time a pile of visiting cards was poured in, which covered the table. The next day, a letter arrived from the First Lord, announcing that he had made out my commission as post-captain, and trusted that I would allow him the pleasure of presenting it himself at his dinner-hour, at half-past seven. Very much obliged to him: the "fool of the family" might have waited a long while for it.

While I was reading this letter the waiter came up to say that a young woman below wanted to speak to me. I desired her to be shown up. As soon as she came in, she burst into tears, knelt down, and kissed my hand. "Sure, it's you--oh! yes--it's you that saved my poor husband when I was a.s.sisting to your ruin. And a'n't I punished for my wicked doings--a'n't my poor boy dead?"

She said no more, but remained on her knees sobbing bitterly. Of course the reader recognises in her the wet-nurse who had exchanged her child.

I raised her up, and desired her to apply to my solicitor to pay her expenses, and leave her address.