Grace Darling by Eva Hope (people reading books .txt) 📕

They had left the island about an hour when Grace and her father reached it. Mrs. Darling was anxious to hear all they had to tell her of the eventful day; and her mother's pride received much gratification when she learned all the particulars.

Then she told them of the visitors that she had had; and at the mention of Tom's name, the colour came into Grace's face. She knew Tom very well. He was an orphan, and his bachelor uncle, who had now accompanied him, had taken care of him since his parents died. He was a frequent visitor at the lighthouse, and long before Grace Darling's name was famous, it had become dear to him. The girl knew that Tom loved her, and it was this knowledge which made her blush. It is true that Tom had never confessed to the feeling that glowed in his breast, but Grace, with a woman's quick-wittedness, comprehended it. Her mother wondered if she also returned it; but at present, notwithstanding her blushes, she did not give him the love that he evidently felt for her.

So ended one of the most eventful days in the girl's history; and very happy it must have made her to feel that her simple effort in the cause of humanity had commended itself both to the rich and great, and to those who lived in the humbler walks of life. So true it is that a good deed, by whomsoever performed, is recognised and admired by all who know of it. The world is not as cold as it seems. And sometimes it can feel, not envy and malice only, but real admiration and respect. It is a pity that there are not more good deeds done, and more of the right kind of enthusiasm created.

[1] "Grace Darling," by W. & T. Fordyce. 1839. [Transcriber's note: This date was blurred—it appears to be 1839, but may be 1889.]

"The merry homes of England!
Around their hearths by night,
What gladsome looks of household love
Meet in the rudy light!
There woman's voice glows forth in song,
Or childhood tale is told,
Or lips move tunefully along
Some glorious page of old.

"The cottage homes of England!
By thousands on her plains,
They are smiling o'er the silvery brooks,
And round the hamlet fanes;
Through glowing orchards forth they peep,
Each from its nook of leaves;
And fearless there the lonely sleep,
As the bird beneath their eaves.

"The free fair homes of England!
Long long in hut and hall
May hearts of native proof be reared
To guard each hallowed wall!
And green for ever be the groves,
And bright the flowery sod,
Where first the child's glad spirit loves
Its country and its God."—Mrs. Hemans.

It was said by One who knew the hearts of men, "A prophet is not without honour save in his own country and in his own house," and there is a pathos and truth about it that is often felt. Still, sometimes it happens, very happily for those whom it concerns, that the best friends one has are those of one's own household. It was certainly so in the case of Grace Darling. She was always the favourite of her brothers and sisters, and so delighted were they with the deed she had done, and the honours she had won, that it is a wonder that they did not come home to the lighthouse in a body to congratulate her and share in her many honours. They did, however, look forward to the Christmas holidays on that occasion, with most pleasant anticipations, believing that the festival of the year, so memorable in the history of their family would be one of the most happy they had ever spent. And so it was—to Grace especially. She looked forward to it most eagerly, for the praise she had received had made her, not less, but more loving to these friends of her own home. Most of them she had not seen for a year, and she thought with a thrill of delight of the joy that was in store for her when they should again be happily together. She was glad to have received the praise and gifts she had, because she knew that it would be a gratification to them, and she often imagined the pleasure with which she would show them the testimonials and presents which had been given to her. Indeed, it is said that so excited was she, that she could not sleep for thinking about it.

At last the long-looked-for time came, and the Darling family was altogether once more in their beloved lighthouse home, and the anticipations were realised. At first, there was actually a little shy reserve, or distance, in the manner of some of them, as if they expected that their sister would have become a fine lady since so much fuss had been made with her. But Grace, who soon detected this feeling, laughed so merrily at the absurdity of the idea that it soon vanished, and they were brought to see and feel that her honours had not made her one whit less affectionate and humble than she was when they all lived together, and their sister had not been so much as heard of in the great world. They gathered thankfully and joyously around the cheerful fire, and looked into each other's faces, seeing only pleasure and peace there, and the hours passed swiftly, as they thought of Him who came to bring salvation to the world. He seemed to have touched anew the hearts of the Darlings, and made them full of peace and good-will to all the world.

Letters, even at Christmas time, are looked for most eagerly by the dwellers in the lonely lighthouses around our coast; and during these holidays a letter came to the Darlings which filled the whole family with joy. It was from the Trinity House, London, and it contained a high eulogium upon the heroic conduct of Mr. Darling and Grace, and said that the managers had pleasure in appointing Mr. Brooks Darling to be his father's assistant. They had observed the frequency of wrecks on the coast near the Farne Islands, and saw that another man was a necessity, and felt that none could better discharge the duty than one of the same family. The "Berwick Advertiser" thus speaks of the appointment:—

"The gentlemen of the Trinity House, London, have appointed Mr. Brooks Darling, son of Mr. William Darling, to be his assistant at the outer lighthouse. This is a most judicious step. The Trinity House has also placed another man on the inner Farne light, making three men now upon the island. An agent of Lloyd's is also to be appointed at Bamborough."

Brooks Darling had already shown himself worthy of the honoured name which he bore. He was one of the brave men who went out from North Sunderland to the wreck of the "Forfarshire," and placed his life in jeopardy, as did his six companions, by doing so. They managed to gain the Farne lights, however, and remained there during the continuance of the storm. He had shown that he also possessed the characteristics of his family, for he was intrepid, courageous, and humane.

He would have plenty of opportunities in his new position for the display of these qualities. It had often caused his father the greatest pain to witness wrecks which he was utterly powerless to aid. One man could do almost nothing alone under such circumstances; and his heart had often ached as he saw noble ships, and more valuable human lives, destroyed on the terrible rocks. But now that his son would be with him, he felt that together they might be the means of saving, not a few, but many. It will therefore be seen that this change contributed more than a little to the joys of that Christmas time. It may be interesting to state that a son of Brooks Darling is now (1876) the keeper of the Souter Point lighthouse, Durham.

It was found on this occasion that there was no need to resort to the usual active Christmas games in order to make the time pass pleasantly, for nothing was so agreeable and interesting to the family now as long conversations. Grace, of course, was ever the chief object of all their admiration, and they never wearied of asking her questions and hearing her account of honours she had received and visits she had paid. Besides talking to them, however, "Aunt Grace" joined in the games, which, for the amusement of the children, were entered into, and the aged couple, Mr. and Mrs. Darling, watched with delight the merry pleasures of their grand-children, and the kindly attentions of their beloved home-staying Grace, who was never too busy or too tired to sing ballads, or tell stories, to the children, who were even now proud and fond of their famous aunt.

But it was after the children had gone to bed that the grown-up people had the best of the pleasure. One night when the weather was wild, and the wind whistled around the house, and the sea was tossing up its dark waves, Robert succeeded in getting from Grace a description of her sensations when she went out to the wreck of the "Forfarshire."

"How did you feel, Grace," he asked, "when you found yourself alone with father out on the stormy water? Confess now that you were very much frightened, and that when you saw how distressed mother was, you were half inclined to give up the attempt.

"No," said Grace; "I shall not confess to that which is not true. I never stopped to think of the danger, and certainly did not in the least realise it. Perhaps, if I had done so, I should have been afraid to venture; but the fact was, I thought of nothing but the awful agony of those who might be drowning. Their shrieks put every thing else out of my head and heart, and the only fear that I had was that we might not reach the wreck in time to be of any use. Even now I often fancy I can hear their screams, and the thought makes me shudder."

"But you could not tell what you might be going to meet. It was quite possible that you should have been yourselves drowned in the attempt," said Robert.

"Oh yes, but I was not afraid of that. I had strength and courage for whatever we might encounter; and when the soldier is not afraid, half the battle is won."

"That is true. But how could you bring yourself to go, Grace, in spite of our mother's prayers and entreaties?"

"Well, my passion to save those drowning creatures swallowed up every other thought. If it had not been so, I could not have disregarded mother's tears as I did. I am not at all surprised that she felt as she expressed herself. It was only natural and right that she should do so. And really, when I think of all that she must have endured when she saw us tossing about on the waves, and knew that perhaps she would never see her beloved husband and wayward daughter again, the wonder is that she was not less composed than she was, and that she had trust and calmness enough to go down to the beach, and help us launch the boat. But, oh, Robert, if you could have seen the joy and thankfulness with which the poor creatures welcomed us—as if we had been angels—you would understand that to do such a thing was worth all the trouble and risk."

"Oh yes; I am sure I should feel the same," said Robert.

"Certainly you would, for you know what it is; you were one of those who were so anxious to rescue poor Logan, don't you remember? And you therefore know