Peter Simple; and, The Three Cutters, Vol. 1-2

by Frederick Marryat

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 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.

"Oh, 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 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."