### Chapter IV
Lady Glenarvan’s Proposal

Lady Helena thought it best to say nothing to the children about the fears Lord Glenarvan had expressed in his letters respecting the decisions of the Lords of the Admiralty with regard to the document. Nor did she mention the probable captivity of Captain Grant among the Indians of South America. Why sadden the poor children, and dampen their newly cherished hopes? It would not alter the actual state of affairs in the least; so not a word was said, and after answering all Miss Grant’s questions, Lady Helena began to interrogate her in turn, 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 had lost his wife when Robert was born, and during his long voyages he left his children in the care of his cousin who was a good old lady. Captain Grant was a fearless sailor. He not only thoroughly understood navigation, but commerce as well — a two-fold qualification eminently useful to skippers in the merchant service. He lived in Dundee, in Perthshire, Scotland. His father, a minister of St. Katrine’s Church, had given him a thorough education, as he believed that could never hurt anybody.

Harry Grant’s voyages, first as a mate, and then as captain where highly successful, and a few years after Robert was born, he found himself in possession of a considerable fortune.

It was then that he proposed the grand scheme which made him so popular in Scotland. Like Glenarvan, and a few noble families in the Lowlands, he had no love for the union with England. In his eyes the interests of his country were not in line with those of the Anglo-Saxons, and to give scope for personal development he resolved to found a Scottish colony on one of the continents of Oceania. He might have thought that some day they would achieve their independence, as the United States had done — an example doubtless to be followed eventually by Australia and India. But whatever his motives might be, he had a dream of colonization. But, as is easily understood, the Government opposed his plans, and put difficulties in his way that would have dissuaded a lesser man. But Harry would not be beaten. He appealed to the patriotism of his countrymen, placed his fortune at the service of the cause, built a ship, manned it with a picked crew, and leaving his children in the care of his cousin, set off to explore the great islands of the Pacific. This was in 1861, and for a year, up until May, 1862, regular news was received from him. But since his departure from Callao, in May, no one heard any more of the Britannia, and the Maritime Gazette became silent as to the Captain’s fate.

It was then that Harry Grant’s old cousin died, and the two children were left alone in the world.

Mary Grant was only fourteen, but she resolved to face her situation bravely, and to devote herself entirely to her little brother, who was still a mere child. By dint of close economy, combined with tact and prudence, she managed to support and educate him. She worked 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 this touching manner 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 had long given up all hope of the Britannia, and was fully persuaded that her father was dead. What, then, were her emotions when she accidentally saw the notice in the Times?

She never hesitated for an instant as to the course she should adopt, but determined to go to Dumbartonshire immediately, to learn the best and worst. Even if she were to be told that her father’s lifeless body had been found on a distant shore, or in the bottom of some abandoned ship, it would be a relief from the incessant doubt and torturing suspense.

She told her brother about the advertisement, and the two children started off together that same day for Perth, where they took the train, and arrived in the evening at Malcolm Castle.

Such was Mary Grant’s sorrowful story, and she recounted it in so simple and unaffected a manner, that it was evident she never thought her conduct through those long and trying years had been that of a heroine. But Lady Helena thought it for her, and more than once she put her arms around both the children, and could not restrain her tears.

As for Robert, this seemed to be the first time he had heard many of these particulars. He gazed at his sister with wide-open eyes, all the while she was speaking. Only learning now how much she had done and suffered for him; and, as she ended, he flung himself on her neck, and exclaimed, “Oh, mamma! My dear little mamma!”

Night had fallen while they talked

Night had fallen while they talked. Lady Helena brought their conversation to an end, for she knew they must be tired after their journey. She had the children taken to their rooms, where they were soon both sound asleep, dreaming of a better future.

After they had retired, Lady Helena sent for Major MacNabbs, and told him the incidents of the evening.

“That Mary Grant must be a brave girl,” said the Major.

“I only hope my husband will succeed, for the poor children’s sake,” said Lady Helena. “It would be terrible for them if he did not.”

“He will be sure to succeed, or the Lords of the Admiralty must have hearts harder than Portland stone.”

In spite of MacNabbs’ assurance, Lady Helena passed the night in great anxiety, and could not get any sleep.

Mary Grant and her brother were awake at dawn the next morning, and were walking about in the courtyard when they heard the sound of a carriage approaching. It was Lord Glenarvan, coming as quickly as his horses could pull him. Almost immediately, Lady Helena and the Major came out to meet him.

Lady Helena flew toward her husband the moment he alighted, but he embraced her silently, and looked gloomy and disappointed — indeed, even furious.

“Well, Edward? Edward?” she asked.

“Well, my dear Helena,” said Lord Glenarvan. “Those people have no heart!”

“They refused?”

“Yes. They have refused me a ship! They talked of the millions that had been wasted in the search for Franklin, and declared that the document was obscure and unintelligible. And then they said it was two years now since they were castaway, and there was little chance of finding them. Besides, they would have it that the Indians, who made them prisoners, would have dragged them into the interior, and it was impossible, they said, to hunt all through Patagonia for three men — three Scots — that the search would be vain and perilous, and cost more lives than it saved. In short, they assigned all the reasons that people invent who have made up their minds to refuse. The truth is, they remembered Captain Grant’s project, and that is the secret of the whole affair. So the poor fellow is lost for ever.”

“My father! My poor father!” cried Mary Grant

“My father! My poor father!” cried Mary Grant, throwing herself on her knees before Lord Glenarvan.

“Your father?” he exclaimed in amazement. “What? Is this Miss—”

“Yes, Edward,” said Lady Helena, “This is Miss Mary Grant and her brother, Robert. The two children condemned to orphanage by the cruel Admiralty!”

“Oh! Miss Grant,” said Lord Glenarvan, raising the young girl. “If I had known of your presence—”

He said no more. A painful silence, interspersed with sobs, reigned in the courtyard. No one raised their voice, neither Lord Glenarvan, nor Lady Helena, nor the Major, nor the servants of the castle ranged silently around their masters. But by their attitude, all these Scots protested against the conduct of the English government.

At last the Major addressed Lord Glenarvan, “Then you have no hope whatever?”

“None.”

“Very well, then,” exclaimed little Robert, “I’ll go and speak to those people myself, and we shall see—”

He did not complete his threat, for his sister stopped him; but his clenched fists showed his unspiritual intentions.

“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 turn a deaf ear to the prayers of two children, who ask for the life of their father.”

Lord Glenarvan shook his head; not that he doubted the kind heart of Her Majesty, but he that knew Mary Grant would never gain access to her. Supplicants rarely reach the steps of a throne. It seems as if royal palaces had the same inscription on their doors that the English have on their ships:

Passengers are requested not to
speak to the man at the wheel.

Lady Glenarvan understood what her husband was thinking, and she felt the young girl’s attempt would be useless, and only plunge the poor children into deeper despair. It was then that she had a great, and wonderful idea.

“Mary Grant!” she cried. “Wait, my child, and listen to what I’m going to say.”

Mary had just taken her brother by the hand, and turned to go away; but she turned back at Lady Helena’s bidding.

Lady Helena, her eyes moist, but her voice firm and her features animated, advanced toward her husband. “Edward, when Captain Grant wrote that letter and threw it into the sea, he committed it to the care of God. God has sent it to us — to us! Undoubtedly God intends us to undertake the rescue of these poor men.”

“What do you mean, Helena?”

“I mean,” said Lady Helena, “that we ought to think ourselves fortunate if we can begin our married life with a good action. I know, Edward, that 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, cast off by their country?”

“Helena!” exclaimed Lord Glenarvan.

“Yes, you understand me, Edward. The Duncan is a good and strong ship. She can venture in the Southern Seas, or go around 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. The servants who thronged the courtyard and had been witnesses of this touching scene, shouted with one voice:

“Hurrah for the Lady of Luss. Hurrah! Three cheers for Lord and Lady Glenarvan! Hurrah!”