In return I put
mine into his, and he read it over.
"Peter, my boy, I'm under great obligations to you. When you were
wounded and feverish, you thought of me at a time when you had quite
enough to think of yourself; but I never thank in words. I see your
uncle William is dead. How many more uncles have you?"
"My uncle John, who is married, and has already two daughters."
"Blessings on him; may he stick to the female line of business! Peter,
my boy, you shall be a lord before you die."
"Nonsense, O'Brien; I have no chance. Don't put such foolish ideas in my
head."
"What chance had I of being a lieutenant, and am I not one? Well, Peter,
you've helped to make a lieutenant of me, but I'll make a _man_ of you,
and that's better. Peter, I perceive, with all your simplicity, that
you're not over and above simple, and that, with all your asking for
advice, you can think and act for yourself on an emergency. Now, Peter,
these are talents that must not be thrown away in this cursed hole, and
therefore, my boy, prepare yourself to quit this place in a week, wind
and weather permitting; that is to say, not fair wind and weather, but
the fouler the better. Will you be ready at any hour of any night that I
call you up?"
"Yes, O'Brien, I will, and do my best."
"No man can do much more that ever I heard of. But, Peter, do me one
favour, as I am really a lieutenant, just touch your hat to me only
once, that's all; but I wish the compliment, just to see how it looks.
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