THE castle of Malcolm, one of the most romantic in Scotland, is situated near the village of Luss, whose pretty valley it crowns. The limpid waters of Loch Lomond bathe the granite of its walls. From time immemorial it has belonged to the Glenarvan family, who have preserved in the country of Rob Roy and Fergus MacGregor the hospitable customs of the ancient heroes of Walter Scott. At the epoch of the social revolution in Scotland, a great number of vassals were expelled, because they could not pay the great rents to the ancient chiefs of the clans. Some died of hunger, others became fishermen, others emigrated. There was general despair.
Among all these the Glenarvans alone believed that fidelity bound the high as well as the low, and they remained faithful to their tenants. Not one left the roof under which he was born; not one abandoned the soil where his ancestors reposed; all continued in the clan of their ancient lords. Thus at this epoch, in this age of disaffection and disunion, the Glenarvan family considered the Scots at Malcolm Castle as their own people. All were descended from the vassals of their kinsmen; were children of the counties of Stirling and Dumbarton, and honestly devoted, body and estate, to their master.
Lord Glenarvan possessed an immense fortune, which he employed in doing much good. His kindness exceeded even his generosity, for one was boundless, while the other was necessarily limited. The lord of Luss, the “laird” of Malcolm, represented his fellows in the House of Lords; but with true Scottish ideas, little pleasing to the southrons, he was disliked by many of them especially because he adhered to the traditions of his ancestors, and energetically opposed some dicta of modern political economy.
He was not, however, a backward man, either in wit or shrewdness; but while ready to enter every door of progress, he remained Scotch at heart, and it was for the glory of his native land that he contended with his racing yachts in the matches of the Royal Thames Yacht Club.
Lord Edward Glenarvan was thirty-two years old. His form was erect and his features sharp, but his look was mild, and his character thoroughly imbued with the poetry of the Highlands. He was known to be brave to excess, enterprising, chivalrous, a Fergus of the nineteenth century; but good above all, better than Saint Martin himself, for he would have given his very cloak to the poor people of the Highlands.
He had been married scarcely three months, having espoused Miss Helena Tuffnel, daughter of the great traveler, William Tuffnel, one of the numerous victims to the great passion for geographical discoveries.
Miss Helena did not belong to a noble family, but she was Scotch, which equaled all nobilities in the eyes of Lord Glenarvan. This charming young creature, high-minded and devoted, the lord of Luss had made the companion of his life. He found her one day living alone, an orphan, almost without fortune, in the house of her father at Kilpatrick. He saw that the poor girl would make a noble wife, and he married her.
Miss Tuffnel was twenty-two, a youthful blonde, with eyes as blue as the waters of the Scotch lakes on a beautiful morning in spring. Her love for her husband exceeded even her gratitude. She loved him as if she had been the rich heiress, and he the friendless orphan. As to their tenants and servants, they were ready to lay down their lives for her whom they called “our good lady of Luss.”
Lord and Lady Glenarvan lived happily at Malcolm Castle, in the midst of the grand and wild scenery of the Highlands, rambling in the shady alleys of horse-chestnuts and sycamores, along the shores of the lake, where still resounded the war cries of ancient times, or in the depths of those uncultivated gorges in which the history of Scotland lies written in ruins from age to age. One day they would wander in the forests of beeches and larches, and in the midst of the masses of heather; another, they would scale the precipitous summits of Ben Lomond, or traverse on horseback the solitary glens, studying, comprehending, and admiring this poetic country, still called “the land of Rob Roy,” and all those celebrated sites so grandly sung by Walter Scott.
In the sweet, still evening, when the “lantern of Mac Farlane” illumined the horizon, they would stroll along the “bartizans,” an old circular balcony that formed a chain of battlements to Malcolm Castle, and there, pensive, oblivious, and as if alone in the world, seated on some detached rock, under the pale rays of the moon, while night gradually enveloped the rugged summits of the mountains, they would continue wrapt in that pure ecstasy and inward delight known only to loving hearts.
Thus passed the first months of their married life. But Lord Glenarvan did not forget that his wife was the daughter of a great traveler. He thought that Lady Helena must have in her heart all the aspirations of her father, and he was not mistaken. The Duncan was constructed, and was designed to convey Lord and Lady Glenarvan to the most beautiful countries of the world, along the waves of the Mediterranean, and to the isles of the Archipelago. Imagine the joy of Lady Helena when her husband placed the Duncan at her disposal! Indeed, can there be a greater happiness than to lead your love towards those charming “isles where Sappho sung,” and behold the enchanting scenes of the Orient, with all their spirit-stirring memories?
Meantime Lord Glenarvan had started for London. The safety of the unfortunate shipwrecked men was at stake. Thus, in his temporary absence, Lady Helena showed herself more anxious than sad. The next day a dispatch from her husband made her hope for a speedy return; in the evening a letter hinted at its postponement. His proposal had to encounter some difficulties, and the following day a second letter came, in which Lord Glenarvan did not conceal his indignation against the authorities.
On that day Lady Helena began to be uneasy. At evening she was alone in her chamber, when the steward of the castle, Mr. Halbert, came to ask if she would see a young girl and boy who desired to speak with Lord Glenarvan.
“People of the country?” asked Lady Helena.
“No, madam,” replied the steward, “for I do not know them. They have just arrived by the Balloch railway, and from Balloch to Luss they tell me they have made the journey on foot.”
“Bid them come up, steward,” said Lady Glenarvan.
The steward withdrew. Some moments afterward the young girl and boy were ushered into Lady Helena’s chamber. They were brother and sister; you could not doubt it by their resemblance.
The sister was sixteen. Her pretty face showed weariness, her eyes must have shed many tears; her resigned, but courageous, countenance, and her humble, but neat, attire, all prepossessed one in her favor. She held by the hand a boy of twelve years, of determined look, who seemed to take his sister under his protection. Indeed, whoever had insulted the young girl would have had to settle with this little gentleman.
The sister stopped, a little surprised at seeing herself before Lady Helena; but the latter hastened to open the conversation.
“You wish to speak with me?” said she, with an encouraging look at the young girl.
“No,” answered the boy, in a decided tone; “not with you, but with Lord Glenarvan himself.”
“Excuse him, madam,” said the sister, looking at her brother.
“Lord Glenarvan is not at the castle,” replied Lady Helena; “but I am his wife, and if I can supply his place with you——”
“You are Lady Glenarvan?” said the young girl.
“Yes, miss.”
“The wife of Lord Glenarvan, of Malcolm Castle, who published an advertisement in the Times in regard to the shipwreck of the Britannia?”
“Yes, yes!” answered Lady Helena, with alacrity. “And you?”
“I am Miss Grant, and this is my brother.”
“Miss Grant! Miss Grant!” cried Lady Helena, drawing the young girl towards her, and taking her hands, while she also drew the boy towards her.
“Madam,” replied the young girl, “what do you know of the shipwreck of my father? Is he living? Shall we ever see him again? Speak! oh, please tell me!”
“My dear child,” said Lady Helena, “God forbid that I should answer you lightly on such a subject; I would not give you a vain hope——”
“Please, madam, speak! I am strong against grief, and can hear all.”
“My dear child,” answered Lady Helena, “the hope is very slight, but with the help of God who can do everything, it is possible that you will one day see your father again.”
“Alas, alas!” exclaimed Miss Grant, who could not restrain her tears, while Robert covered the hands of Lady Glenarvan with kisses.
When the first paroxysm of this mournful joy was past, the young girl began to ask innumerable questions. Lady Helena related the story of the document, how that the Britannia had been lost on the shores of Patagonia; in what way, after the shipwreck, the captain and two sailors, the only survivors, must have reached the continent; and, at last, how they implored the assistance of the whole world in this document, written in three languages, and abandoned to the caprices of the ocean.
During this recital Robert Grant devoured Lady Helena with his eyes; his life seemed to hang on her lips. In his childish imagination he reviewed the terrible scenes of which his father must have been the victim. He saw him on the deck of the Britannia; he followed him to the bosom of the waves; he clung with him to the rocks of the shore; he dragged himself panting along the beach, out of reach of the waves.
Often during the course of this narration words escaped his lips.
“Oh, papa! my poor papa!” he cried, pressing close to his sister.
As for Miss Grant, she listened with clasped hands, and did not utter a word until the story was ended, when she said,—
“Oh, madam, the document! the document!”
“I no longer have it, my dear child,” replied Lady Helena.
“You no longer have it?”
“No; for the very sake of your father, Lord Glenarvan had to take it to London; but I have told you all it contained, word for word, and how we succeeded in discovering the exact meaning. Among these remains of the almost effaced words the water had spared some characters. Unfortunately the record of the longitude had altogether been destroyed, but that was the only missing point. Thus you see, Miss Grant, the minutest details of this document are known to you as well as me.”
“Yes, madam,” replied the young girl; “but I would like to have seen my father’s writing.”
“Well, to-morrow, perhaps, Lord Glenarvan will return. My husband desired to submit this indisputable document to the authorities in London, to induce them to send a vessel immediately in search of Captain Grant.”
“Is it possible, madam!” cried the young girl. “Did you do this for us?”
“Yes, my dear miss, and I expect Lord Glenarvan every moment.”
“Madam,” said the young girl, in a deep tone of gratitude, and with fervency, “may Heaven bless Lord Glenarvan and you!”
“Dear child,” answered Lady Helena, “we deserve no thanks. Any other person in our place would have done the same. May the hopes that are kindled be realized! Till Lord Glenarvan’s return you will remain at the castle.”
“Madam,” said the young girl, “I would not presume on the sympathy you show to us strangers——”
“Strangers! Dear child, neither your brother nor you are strangers in this house; and I desire that Lord Glenarvan on his arrival should inform the children of Captain Grant of what is to be attempted to save their father.”
It was not possible to refuse an invitation made with so much cordiality. It was, therefore, decided that Miss Grant and her brother should await at Malcolm Castle the return of Lord Glenarvan.