“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!”

We have said already that Lady Helena was a brave, generous woman. Her husband had good reasons to be proud of such a wife. The idea of going to Captain Grant’s rescue had occurred to him in London when his request was refused. But now she herself proposed to go!

There was not an hour to be lost. A telegram was dispatched to John Mangles the very same day, conveying Lord Glenarvan’s orders to take the Duncan immediately to Glasgow, and to make preparations for a voyage to the Southern Seas, and possibly round the world, if necessary.

The Duncan was a steam yacht of the finest description. It had two masts; its engine, which was constructed on a new system, was a high-pressure one, of 160-horse power. It made seventeen miles an hour, a higher speed than any vessel had yet attained.

John Mangles understood his business[29]. Though he was only the captain of a pleasure yacht[30], he was one of the best skippers in Glasgow. He was thirty years of age, and his countenance expressed both courage and goodness. When Lord Glenarvan offered him the command of the Duncan, he accepted it with right good will, for he loved the master of Malcolm Castle, like a brother.