“What do you mean?” said Mary, getting uneasy.
“Sister, I am going to be a sailor!”
“You are going to leave me!” cried the young girl, pressing her brother’s hand.
“Yes, sister; I want to be a sailor, like my father and Captain John. Mary, dear Mary, Captain John has not lost all hope, he says. You have confidence in his devotion to us, and so have I. He is going to make a grand sailor out of me some day, he has promised me he will; and then we are going to look for our father together. Tell me you are willing, sister mine. What our father would have done for us it is our duty, mine, at least, to do for him. My life has one purpose to which it should be entirely consecrated—that is to search, and never cease searching for my father, who would never have given us up. Ah, Mary, how good our father was!”
“And so noble, so generous!” added Mary. “Do you know, Robert, he was already a glory to our country, and that he would have been numbered among our great men if fate had not arrested his course.”
“Yes, I know it,” said Robert.
Mary put her arm around the boy, and hugged him fondly as he felt her tears fall on his forehead.
“Mary, Mary!” he cried, “it doesn’t matter what our friends say, I still hope, and will always hope. A man like my father doesn’t die till he has finished his work.”
Mary Grant could not reply. Sobs choked her voice. A thousand feelings struggled in her breast at the news that fresh attempts were about to be made to recover Harry Grant, and that the devotion of the captain was so unbounded.
“And does Mr. John still hope?” she asked.