Lady Helena began to interrogate Miss Grant, asking her about her past life and her present circumstances. It was a touching, simple story she heard in reply, and one which increased her sympathy for the young girl.
Mary and Robert were the captain’s only children. Harry Grant was a fearless sailor and lived in Dundee[27], in Perthshire[28], Scotland. His father had given him a thorough education. He lost his wife when Robert was born, and during his long voyages he left his little ones in charge of his cousin, a good old lady. Now, the old cousin has died, and Harry Grant’s two children were left alone in the world.
Mary Grant was then only fourteen, but she devoted herself entirely to her little brother, who was still a mere child. She managed to support and educate him, working day and night, denying herself everything, that she might give him all he needed, watching over him and caring for him like a mother.
The two children were living in Dundee, struggling patiently and courageously with their poverty. Mary thought only of her brother, and indulged in dreams of a prosperous future for him. She was fully persuaded that her father was dead. What, then, was her emotion when she accidentally saw the notice in the TIMES!
She decided to go to Dumbartonshire immediately, to learn the best and worst. She told her brother about the advertisement, and the two children took the train, and arrived in the evening at Malcolm Castle.
Such was Mary Grant’s sorrowful story, and she recounted it in a simple and unaffected manner. But Lady Helena put her arms round both the children, and could not restrain her tears.
As for Robert, while his sister was speaking, he gazed at her with wide-open eyes, only knowing now how much she had done and suffered for him; and, as she ended, he exclaimed:
“Oh, mamma! My dear little mamma!”
It was quite dark by this time, and Lady Helena made the children go to bed, for she knew they must’ve been tired after their journey. They were soon both sound asleep, dreaming of happy days.
Mary Grant and her brother were up very early next morning, and were walking about in the courtyard when they heard the sound of a carriage approaching. It was Lord Glenarvan; and, almost immediately, Lady Helena and the Major came out to meet him.
Lady Helena flew toward her husband; but he embraced her silently, and looked gloomy and disappointed—indeed, even furious.
“Well, Edward?” she said; “tell me.”
“Well, Helena, dear; those people have no heart!”
“They have refused?”
“Yes. They have refused me a ship! They declared the document was obscure and unintelligible. And, then, they said it was two years since they were cast away, and there was little chance of finding them. They said that the search would be vain and perilous, and cost more lives than it saved. The truth is, they remembered Captain Grant’s projects, and that is the secret of the whole affair. So the poor fellow is lost forever.”
“My father! My poor father!” cried Mary Grant, throwing herself on her knees before Lord Glenarvan, who exclaimed in amazement:
“Your father? What? Is this Miss—”
“Yes, Edward,” said Lady Helena; “this is Miss Mary Grant and her brother.”
“Oh! Miss Grant,” said Lord Glenarvan, raising the young girl, “if I had known of your presence—”
He said no more, and there was a painful silence in the courtyard, broken only by sobs. No one spoke. At last the Major said, addressing Lord Glenarvan: “Then you have no hope whatever?”
“None,” was the reply.
“Very well, then,” exclaimed little Robert, “I’ll go and speak to those people myself, and we’ll see if they—” He did not complete his sentence, for his sister stopped him.
“No, Robert,” said Mary Grant, “we will thank this noble lord and lady for what they have done for us, and never cease to think of them with gratitude; and then we’ll both go together.”
“Mary!” said Lady Helena, in a tone of surprise.
“Go where?” asked Lord Glenarvan.
“I am going to throw myself at the Queen’s feet, and we shall see if she will be deaf to the prayers of two children, who implore their father’s life.”
Lord Glenarvan shook his head. Lady Glenarvan felt the young girl’s attempt would be useless. Suddenly, a grand, generous purpose fired her soul, and she called out: “Mary Grant! Wait, my child, and listen to what I’m going to say.”
The young wife went up to her husband, and said, with tears in her eyes, though her voice was firm, and her face beamed with animation: “Edward, God has sent that letter to us—to us! Undoubtedly God intends us to undertake the rescue of these poor men.”
“What do you mean, Helena?”
“Well, Edward, to please me you planned a pleasure trip; but what could give us such genuine pleasure, or be so useful, as to save those unfortunate fellows?”
“Helena!” exclaimed Lord Glenarvan.
“Yes, Edward, you understand me. The Duncan is a good strong ship, it can venture in the Southern Seas, or go round the world if necessary. Let us go, Edward; let us start off and search for Captain Grant!”
Lord Glenarvan made no reply to this bold proposition, but smiled, and, holding out his arms, drew his wife into a close, fond embrace. Mary and Robert seized her hands, and covered them with kisses; and the servants shouted with one voice, “Hurrah! Three cheers for Lord and Lady Glenarvan!”