never be read, so
I'll wait till I hear from you; and then, as soon as I get through my
business, we will set to and trounce that scoundrel of an uncle. I
have twenty thousand pounds jammed together in the Consolidated,
besides the Spice Islands, which will be a pretty penny; and every
farthing of it shall go to right you, Peter, and make a lord of you,
as I promised you often that you should be; and if you win you shall
pay, and if you don't then d--n the luck and d--n the money too. I beg
you will offer my best regards to Miss Ellen, and say how happy I
shall be to hear that she is well; but it has always been on my mind,
Peter, that your father did not leave too much behind him, and I wish
to know how you both get on. I left you a _carte blanche _at my
agent's, and I only hope that you have taken advantage of it, if
required; if not, you're not the Peter that I left behind me. So now,
farewell, and don't forget to answer my letter in no time. Ever yours,

"Terence O'Brien."

This was indeed joyful intelligence. I handed the letter to General
O'Brien, who read it, Celeste hanging over his shoulder, and perusing it
at the same time.

"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 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 t