"Celeste," said I, "you did not reject me when I was pennyless, 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."
"As far as I am concerned, O'Brien, nothing would give me greater pleasure; but God knows to what wretchedness and want may have compelled her."
"Shame on you, Peter, to think so of your sister. I pledge my honour for her. Poor, miserable, and unhappy she may be—but no—no, Peter. You don't know—you don't love her as I do, if you can allow such thoughts to enter your mind."
This conversation took place at the window: 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 that 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?"