Chapter Forty Nine.
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.”