The verdict of the court-martial was that “the charges of insubordination had been partly proved, and therefore that Lieutenant Peter Simple was dismissed his ship; but in consideration of his good character and services his case was strongly recommended to the consideration of the Lords Commissioners of the Admiralty.”

I hardly knew whether I felt glad or sorry at this sentence.  On the one hand, in spite of the fourteen years I had served, it was almost a death-blow to my future advancement or employment in the service; on the other, the recommendation very much softened down the sentence, and I was quite happy to be quit of Captain Hawkins and free to hasten to my poor sister.

I hurried on shore, but on my journey north fell ill with fever, and for three weeks was in a state of alternate stupor and delirium, lying in a cottage by the roadside.

My uncle, learning of my condition, thought this too favourable an opportunity, provided I should live, not to have me in his power.  He sent to have me removed, and some days afterwards—­for I recollect nothing about the journey—­I found myself in bed in a dark room, and my arms confined.  Where was I?  Presently the door opened, and a man entered who took down a shutter, and the light streamed in.  The walls were bare and whitewashed.  I looked at the window; it was closed up with two iron bars.

“Why, where am I?” I inquired, with alarm.

“Where are you?” replied he.  “Why, in Bedlam!”

As I afterwards discovered, my uncle had had me confined upon the plea that I was a young man who was deranged with an idea that his name was Simple, and that he was the heir to the title and estates, and that it was more from the fear of my coming to some harm than from any ill-will toward the poor young man that he wished me to remain in the hospital and be taken care of.  Under these circumstances, I remained in Bedlam for one year and eight months.

A chance visit from General O’Brien, a prisoner on parole, who was accompanied by his friend, Lord Belmore, secured my release; and shortly afterwards I commenced an action for false imprisonment against Lord Privilege.  But the sudden death of my uncle stopped the action, and gave me the title and estates.  The return of my old messmate, Captain O’Brien, who had just been made Sir Terence O’Brien, in consequence of his successes in the East Indies, added to my happiness.

I found that Sir Terence had been in love with my sister Ellen from the day I had first taken him home, and that Ellen was equally in love with him; so when Celeste consented to my entreaties that our wedding should take place six weeks after my assuming the title, O’Brien took the hint and spoke.

Both unions have been attended with as much happiness as this world can afford.  O’Brien and I are blessed with children, until we can now muster a large Christmas party in the two families.

Such is the history of Peter Simple, Viscount Privilege, no longer the fool, but the head, of the family.