DURING this conversation, Lady Helena had not spoken of the fears expressed in her husband’s letters concerning the reception of his petition by the London officials; nor was a word said in regard to the probable captivity of Captain Grant among the Indians of South America. Why afflict these poor children with their father’s situation, and check the hopes they had just conceived? It would not change matters. Lady Helena was, therefore, silent on this point, and, after satisfying all Miss Grant’s inquiries, she questioned her concerning her life, and situation in the world in which she seemed to be the sole protectress of her brother. It was a simple and touching story, which still more increased Lady Glenarvan’s sympathy for the young girl.
Mary and Robert Grant were the only children of Captain Harry Grant, whose wife had died at the birth of Robert, and during his long voyages his children were left to the care of his good old cousin. Captain Grant was a hardy sailor, a man well acquainted with his profession, and a good negotiator, combining thus a twofold aptitude for his calling commercially. His home was at Dundee, in the county of Forfar, and he was moreover, by birth, a child of that “bonnie” place. His father, a minister of Saint Catherine’s Church, had given him a thorough education, knowing that it would be sure to help all, even a sea-captain.
During his early voyages, first as mate, and afterwards in the capacity of skipper, Harry Grant prospered, and some years after the birth of his son Robert, he found himself the possessor of a considerable fortune.
Then a great idea entered his mind which made his name popular throughout Scotland. Like the Glenarvans and several other great families of the Highlands, he was opposed in heart, if not in deed, to the advance and prevalence of English thought and feeling. The interests of his country could not be in his eyes the same as those of the Anglo-Saxons, and, in order to give the former a peculiar and national development, he resolved to found a Scottish colony in some part of the Southern World. Did he dream of that independence in the future of which the United States had set the example, and which the Indies and Australia cannot fail one day to acquire? Very likely; but he allowed his secret hopes to be divined. It was, therefore, known that the Government refused to lend their aid in his project of colonization; nay, they even raised obstacles which in any other country would have overcome the project.
But Harry Grant would not be discouraged. He appealed to the patriotism of his countrymen, gave his fortune to serve the cause, built a vessel and furnished it with a fine crew, confided his children to the care of his old cousin, and set sail to explore the great islands of the Pacific.
It was the year 1861. Until May, 1862, they had received news of him, but since his departure from Callao, in the month of June, no one had heard anything of the Britannia, and the marine intelligencers became silent concerning the fate of the captain.
At this juncture of affairs the old cousin of Harry Grant died, and the two children were left alone in the world. Mary Grant was then fourteen. Her courageous soul did not flinch at the situation that was presented, but she devoted herself entirely to her brother, who was still a child. She must bring him up and instruct him. By dint of economy, prudence, and sagacity, laboring night and day, sacrificing all for him, denying herself everything, the sister succeeded in educating her brother and bravely fulfilled her sisterly duties.
The two children lived thus at Dundee, and valiantly overcame their sorrowful and lonely circumstances. Mary thought only of her brother, and dreamed of a happy future for him. As for herself, alas! the Britannia was lost forever, and her father dead! We must not, therefore, attempt to depict her emotion when the advertisement in the Times accidentally met her eye, and suddenly raised her from her despair.
It was no time to hesitate. Her resolution was immediately taken. Even if she should learn that her father’s dead body had been found on a desert coast, or in the hull of a shipwrecked vessel, it was better than this continual doubt, this eternal torment of uncertainty. She told her brother all; and the same day the two children took the Perth Railroad, and at evening arrived at Malcolm Castle, where Mary, after so many harassing thoughts, began to hope.
Such was the sorrowful story that the young girl related to Lady Glenarvan, in an artless manner, without thinking that through all those long years of trial she had behaved herself like an heroic daughter. But Lady Helena thought of this, and several times, without hiding her tears, she clasped in her arms the two children of Captain Grant.
As for Robert, it seemed as if he heard this story for the first time: for he opened his eyes in astonishment, as he listened to his sister; comprehended what she had done, what she had suffered; and at last, encircling her with his arms, he exclaimed, unable longer to restrain the cry that came from the very depths of his heart,—
“Oh, mamma! my dear mamma!”
Night had now fully set in; and Lady Helena, remembering the fatigue of the two children, would not longer continue the conversation. Mary and Robert were conducted to their chambers, and fell asleep dreaming of a brighter future.
After they had retired, Lady Helena saw the major, and told him all the events of the day.
“That Mary Grant is a brave girl,” said MacNabb, when he had heard his cousin’s story.
“May Heaven grant my husband success in his enterprise!” replied Lady Helena; “for the situation of the two children would be terrible!”
“He will succeed,” answered MacNabb, “or the hearts of the authorities must be harder than the stone of Portland.”
In spite of the major’s assurance, Lady Helena passed the night in the greatest anxiety, and could scarce gain an hour’s repose.
The next morning Mary and her brother rose at daybreak, and were walking in the galleries and water terraces of the castle, when the sound of a coach was heard in the great court-yard. It was Lord Glenarvan returning to Malcolm Castle at the full speed of his horses. Almost immediately Lady Helena, accompanied by the major, appeared in the court-yard, and flew to meet her husband. But he seemed sad, disappointed, and angry. He clasped his wife in his arms, and was silent.
“Well, Edward!” she exclaimed.
“Well, my dear Helena,” he replied, “those people have no hearts!”
“They refused?”
“Yes, they refused me a vessel: they spoke of the millions vainly spent in searching for Franklin; they declared the document was vague and unintelligible; they said that the shipwreck of these unfortunates had happened two years ago, and that there was little chance of finding them. They maintained too, that, if prisoners of the Indians, they must have been carried into the interior of the country; that they could not ransack all Patagonia to find three men,—three Scotchmen; the search would be vain and perilous, and would cost the lives of more men than it would save. In short, they gave all the absurd reasons of people who mean to refuse. They remembered the captain’s projects, and I fear that the unfortunate man is forever lost!”
“My father, my poor father!” cried Mary Grant, throwing herself at the feet of Lord Glenarvan.
“Your father! What, Miss——?” said he, surprised at seeing a young girl at his feet.
“Yes, Edward, Miss Grant and her brother,” replied Lady Helena; “the two children of Captain Grant, who have thus been condemned to remain orphans.”
“Ah, miss!” answered Lord Glenarvan, “if I had known of your presence——”
He said no more. A painful silence, interrupted only by sobs, reigned in the court-yard. No one raised his voice, neither Lord Glenarvan, Lady Helena, the major, nor the servants of the castle, who were standing about even at this early hour. But by their attitude they all protested against the conduct of the officials.
After several moments the major resumed the conversation, and, addressing Lord Glenarvan, said,—
“Then you have no more hope?”
“None.”
“Well,” cried young Robert, “I will go to these people, and—we shall see——”
He did not finish his threat, for his sister stopped him; but his clinched hands indicated his intentions.
“No, Robert,” said she, “no; let us thank these kind people for what they have done for us. Let us always keep them in remembrance; but now we must take our departure.”
“Mary!” cried Lady Helena.
“Miss, where would you go?” said Lord Glenarvan.
“I am going to throw myself at the feet of the Queen,” replied the young girl, “and we shall see if she will be deaf to the prayers of two children imploring help for their father.”
Lord Glenarvan shook his head; not that he doubted the clemency of Her Gracious Majesty, but he doubted whether Mary Grant would gain access to her; for but few suppliants reach the steps of a throne.
Lady Helena understood her husband’s thoughts. She knew that the young girl might make a fruitless journey, and she pictured to herself these two children leading henceforth a cheerless existence. Then it was that she conceived a grand and noble idea.
“Mary Grant,” she exclaimed, “wait, my child; listen to what I am about to say.”
The young girl held her brother by the hand, and was preparing to go. She stopped.
Then Lady Helena, with tearful eye, but firm voice and animated features, advanced towards her husband.
“Edward,” said she, “when Captain Grant wrote that letter, and cast it into the sea, he confided it to the care of God himself, who has brought it to us. Without doubt He designed to charge us with the safety of these unfortunates.”
“What do you mean, Helena?” inquired Lord Glenarvan, whilst all waited in silence.
“I mean,” replied Lady Helena, “that we ought to consider ourselves happy in beginning our married life with a good action. You, my dear Edward, to please me, have planned a pleasure voyage. But what pleasure can be more genuine or more beneficent than to save these unfortunates whom hope has almost abandoned?”
“Helena!” cried Lord Glenarvan.
“Yes, you understand me, Edward. The Duncan is a good, staunch vessel. It can brave the Southern seas; it can make the tour of the world,—and it will, if necessary! Let us start, Edward,—let us go in search of Captain Grant!”
At these courageous words Lord Glenarvan had extended his arms to his wife. He smiled. He pressed her to his heart, while Mary and Robert kissed her hands.
And during this touching scene the servants of the castle, affected and enthusiastic, uttered from their hearts this cry of gratitude,—
“Hurrah for the lady of Luss! Hurrah! three times hurrah, for Lord and Lady Glenarvan!”