O'Brien came to me with the letter, his countenance radiant with joy as he put it into my hands.

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.