Part 31 (2/2)

This was more than I did. I had a great mind to show him O'Brien's letter, but I thought it would be cruel to raise doubts, and, hara.s.s the mind of a person so close to the brink of the grave. The truth would never be ascertained during his life, I thought; and why, therefore, should I give him pain? At all events, although I had the letter in my pocket, I resolved not to make use of it except as a _dernier_ resort.

I went to another table, and sat down to write the letter. As his lords.h.i.+p had said that I might write what I pleased, it occurred to me that I might a.s.sist O'Brien, and I felt sure that his lords.h.i.+p would not take the trouble to read the letter. I therefore wrote as follows, while Lord Privilege continued to read his book:--

”MY LORD,--You will confer a very great favour upon me, if you will hasten the commission which, I have no doubt, is in preparation for my grandson Mr Simple, who has pa.s.sed his examination, and has been mentioned in the public despatches; and also that you will not lose sight of Lieutenant O'Brien, who has so distinguished himself by his gallantry in the various cutting-out expeditions in the West Indies.

Trusting that your lords.h.i.+p will not fail to comply with my earnest request, I have the honour to be your lords.h.i.+p's very obedient humble servant.”

I brought this letter, with a pen full of ink, and the noise of my approach induced his lords.h.i.+p to look up. He stared at first, as having forgotten the whole circ.u.mstance--then said--”O yes! I recollect, so I did--give me the pen.” With a trembling hand he signed his name, and gave me back the letter without reading it, as I expected.

”There, child, don't tease me any more. Good-bye; remember me to your father.”

I wished his lords.h.i.+p a good morning, and went away well satisfied with the result of my expedition. On my arrival I showed the letter to my father, who was much surprised at my success, and he a.s.sured me that my grandfather's interest was so great with the Administration, that I might consider my promotion as certain. That no accident might happen, I immediately set off for London, and delivered the letter at the door of the First Lord with my own hands, leaving my address with the porter.

CHAPTER FORTY.

O'BRIEN AND MYSELF TAKE A STEP EACH, ”PARI Pa.s.sU”--A FAMILY REUNION, PRODUCTIVE OF ANYTHING BUT UNITY--MY UNCLE, NOT ALWAYS THE BEST FRIEND.

A few days afterwards I left my card with my address with the First Lord, and the next day received a letter from his secretary, which, to my delight, informed me that my commission had been made out some days before. I hardly need say that I hastened to take it up, and when paying my fee to the clerk, I ventured, at a hazard, to inquire whether he knew the address of Lieutenant O'Brien.

”No,” replied he, ”I wish to find it out, for he has this day been promoted to the rank of Commander.”

I almost leaped with joy when I heard this good news; I gave O'Brien's address to the clerk, hastened away with my invaluable piece of parchment in my hand, and set off immediately for my father's house.

But I was met with sorrow. My mother had been taken severely ill, and I found the house in commotion--doctors, and apothecaries, and nurses, running to and fro, my father in a state of excitement, and my dear sister in tears. Spasm succeeded spasm; and although every remedy was applied, the next evening she breathed her last. I will not attempt to describe the grief of my father, who appeared to feel remorse at his late unkind treatment of her, my sister, and myself. These scenes must be imagined by those who have suffered under similar bereavements. I exerted myself to console my poor sister, who appeared to cling to me as to her only support, and, after the funeral was over, we recovered our tranquillity, although the mourning was still deeper in our hearts than in our outward dress. I had written to O'Brien to announce the mournful intelligence, and, like a true friend, he immediately made his appearance to console me.

O'Brien had received the letter from the Admiralty, acquainting him with his promotion; and, two days after he arrived, went to take up his commission. I told him frankly by what means he had obtained it, and he again concluded his thanks by a reference to the mistake of the former supposition, that of my being ”the fool of the family.”

”By the powers, it would be well for any man if he had a few of such foolish friends about him,” continued he; ”but I won't blarney you, Peter; you know what my opinion always has been, so we'll say no more about it.”

When he came back, we had a long consultation as to the best method of proceeding to obtain employment, for O'Brien was anxious to be again afloat, and so was I. I regretted parting with my sister, but my father was so morose and ill-tempered, that I had no pleasure at home, except in her company. Indeed, my sister was of opinion, that it would be better if I were away, as my father's misanthropy, now unchecked by my mother, appeared to have increased, and he seemed to view me with positive dislike. It was, therefore, agreed unanimously between my sister, and me, and O'Brien, who was always of our councils, that it would be advisable that I should be again afloat.

”I can manage him much better when alone, Peter; I shall have nothing to occupy me, and take me away from him, as your presence does now; and, painful as it is to part with you, my duty to my father, and my wish for your advancement, induce me to request that you will, if possible, find some means of obtaining employment.”

”Spoken like a hero, as ye are, Miss Ellen, notwithstanding your pretty face and soft eyes,” said O'Brien. ”And now, Peter, for the means to bring it about. If I can get a s.h.i.+p, there is no fear for you, as I shall choose you for my lieutenant; but how is that to be managed? Do you think that you can come over the old gentleman at Eagle Park?”

”At all events I'll try,” replied I; ”I can but be floored, O'Brien.”

Accordingly, the next day I set off for my grandfather's, and was put down at the lodge, at the usual hour, about eleven o'clock. I walked up the avenue, and knocked at the door: when it was opened, I perceived a hesitation among the servants, and a constrained air which I did not like. I inquired after Lord Privilege--the answer was, that he was pretty well, but did not see _any_ body.

”Is my uncle here,” said I.

”Yes, sir,” replied the servant, with a significant look, ”and all his family are here too.”

”Are you sure that I cannot see my _grandfather_,” said I, laying a stress upon the word.

”I will tell him that you are here, sir,” replied the man, ”but even that is against orders.”

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