Grace Darling - Eva Hope (amazing books to read TXT) 📗

most of them, and was at this time a well-informed girl, with good natural abilities. She was possessed of that simple courtesy which has its root in self-forgetfulness, and an earnest desire to please, and which will always prevent its owner from breaking any of those rules of etiquette which make the wheels of society run so smoothly; and there was an easy winning grace, and guileless sweetness of manner, about the simple true-hearted lighthouse maiden, that won its way to all hearts. There is no such beautifier as thoughtful goodness; and the amiable character, and clear understanding of Grace Darling, shone through her hazel eyes, and added to her loveliness.

Grace was rather beneath the ordinary stature, and her figure was slender and graceful. She had a wreath of sunny brown curls, and a delicate clear complexion, which revealed the quick emotions of joy or sorrow that moved her. She was rich, too, in having a fund of good common sense, which would enable her, with the assistance of the ready presence of mind and dauntless courage which characterised her, to be equal to all the emergencies of life.

The two girls, so differently trained and constituted, who were thus brought together, would probably be the better for the short intercourse which they had; and it is certain that both would retain pleasant memories of their walks and talks in the island.

When evening came they all sat around the lighthouse fire, and hold a pleasant conversation. Nor were they content with this, but added the delights of music to their entertainment. Miss Dudley was prevailed on to sing the following ballad;[1]—

"The 'Morning Star'
Sailed o'er the bar,
Bound to the Baltic Sea:
In the morning grey
She stretched away—
'Twas a weary day to me.

"And many an hour,
In sleet and shower,
By the lighthouse rock I stray,
And watch till dark
For the winged bark
Of him that's far away.

"The Castle's bound
I wander round,
Among the grassy graves,
But all I hear
Is the north wind drear,
And all I see—the waves."

"Oh, roam not there,
Thou mourner fair,
Nor pour the fruitless tear!
The plaint of woe is all too low—
The dead—they cannot hear!

"The Morning Star
Is set afar,
Set in the Baltic Sea;
And the billows spread
O'er the sandy bed
That holds thy love from thee."

Mr. Morrington remarked that the Tynemouth Castle grounds were used as a burial place; and then calls were made upon the other members of the party for another song.

"William can sing," remarked Grace, looking at her brother.

"Of course he can," said Mr. Dudley; "whoever knew a light-hearted man, used to the sea, who could not sing. Will you please favour us, Mr. Darling!"

William, who was anxious, like the rest of the family, to make the time of their guests pass as pleasantly as possible, at once complied with their request. He sang his song to an old border tune, originally composed to the words, "When I was a bachelor fine and brave:"—

"Harold, the minstrel, was blithe and young;
Many and strange were the lays he sung;
But Harold neither had gold nor fee—
His wealth was his harp o' the forest tree;
And little he reck'd, as he troll'd his lay—
'Clouds come over the brightest day.'

"On him young Ella, the maiden, smiled;
Never were notes like his wood-notes wild,
Till the baron's broad lands and glittering store
Dazzled her eye, and her love was o'er;
Gold hushed the praise of the minstrel lay—
'Clouds come over the brightest day.'

"From the old church-tower the joy bells rung,
Flowering wreaths were before her flung;
Youth was gay, but the aged sighed—
'She had better been the minstrel's bride;
And Harold wept as he troll'd his lay—
'Clouds come over the brightest day.'

"Years have fled, and the moonbeams fall
On the roofless towers of the baron's hall;
The owl hath built in the chapel aisle,
And the bat in the silent campanile,
And the whispering ivy seems to say—
'Clouds come over the brightest day.'

"Years have fled, and that soft light shines
On a quiet cot where the woodbine twines.
A lonely heart, in a distant clime,
On that sweet cot thinks, and the warning rhyme,
Treasures of earth will fade away—
'Clouds come over the brightest day.'"

The next morning the sea was calm enough for to make it safe for the visitors to cross over, and they prepared to leave the island-home in which they had been so kindly and hospitably entertained. They did so with some reluctance, being sorry to lose the friends whom they had found. The parting was especially hard to Grace, who had been living in a new world during the last two days; but Miss Dudley comforted her, by expressing a hope that they would meet again.

"Will you come and stay with us, Grace, before we leave Tynemouth," she asked. "I should like to do so very much," said Grace, "if father and mother will consent."

"I will get the permission of Mr. and Mrs. Darling before I go," replied Miss Dudley.

She did so; and though the anticipations of the girls were not to be realised, the hope made the parting more easy than it would otherwise have been.

Mrs. Darling and Grace both went down to the beach to see the last of their friends, and it was not until after many loving farewells, that Miss Dudley could break away.

The two young men thanked Mrs. Darling most heartily, while they warmly shook hands with her, for her motherly care and kindness. Then Mr. Darling took his station in the boat, and William assisted the friends into it.

"Good-bye, good-bye, God bless you."

"Write to me soon, Grace."

The little boat went dancing away over the laughing waters, leaving behind—as boats so often do—loneliness and regret. Mrs. Darling went back to her work in the lighthouse, but Grace remained on the beach until the coble that bore her friend away had passed completely out of sight. She might be forgiven if, for that day, her usual cheerfulness forsook her, and she felt as if she could not settle down to the monotony of her life.

She was glad when toward evening her father and brother returned, and she could learn all the latest particulars of her friend. They described the rapturous joy of Major Dudley at the re-appearance of the son and daughter whom he had mourned as lost. At first the meeting seemed too much for him, and he trembled, and he turned pale; but afterward he caressed them most passionately, and loaded the Darlings with presents and thanks.

"When he heard of all that had been done for his son and daughter, and their friend, he would not let me come away without bringing presents for us. See," said the lighthouse keeper, exhibiting them, "this is for Mrs. Darling, and this for Grace."

"Miss Dudley has not sent a letter, I suppose, father?"

"No; but she has sent her love, and promises to write soon."

The letter came in a day or two, but it was not at all what Grace wished for. It brought the unwelcome intelligence that Major Dudley had been summoned to the south, and they were all obliged at once to accompany him thither, so that it was not possible for them to receive Grace as they had hoped to do. She therefore saw her friend no more; and for some days she could not help feeling very sad and lonely. But Mrs. Darling, sensible woman as she was, knew a good cure for melancholy.

"Grace," she said, "I want to make a few alterations in the house. One or two of the rooms must be thoroughly cleaned, and the furniture placed differently, and then I think it will be more comfortable for the winter. I shall want your help, my child."

Grace readily responded; and before very long her face grew bright under the influence of wholesome household work; and her parents were delighted to hear her clear voice once more singing her favourite airs.

When, a week later, William Darling went back to Alnwick, the lighthouse family returned to the usual quiet, even ways, which had lately been so pleasantly disturbed, and the lighthouse guests were hereafter little more than memories.

Does it seem that too much has been made of this little simple incident? Let it be remembered, that though on the mainland, in our busy towns and centres of population, the visits of strangers, and the joy of entertaining them, may be common occurrences, it was far different in the case of these dwellers on the lonely Farne Islands. We, who are used to receive the social calls of friends, and to spend many hours a week in "chit-chat," and pleasant recreation, can scarcely estimate the joy and refreshment which this episode brought to the Darlings. It was a great event to them, and was remembered and talked over for many years afterwards. Grace especially, though she never saw her friend again, never forgot her, and there is no doubt that the little intercourse she had had was not without its effects on the after-life and character of the heroic girl.

We cannot tell for what purpose in the all-wise providence of God strangers are brought to us whom we learn to love, and take to our hearts as dear friends, and who are then altogether removed from us. But we may be sure that some good end is kept in view, and perhaps hereafter that which is mysterious may be made plain.

This life is but the beginning of things, the continuation of them will be in heaven; and who knows but that it may be one of the pleasures that our Father has in store for us, that there, the old friendships may be renewed and perfected, and the scattered links all united? If it be so, perhaps Grace has already found her friend again.

[1] It was written at Tynemouth; and refers to the "Morning Star," a vessel belonging to the Tyne, which was lost, with all hands, in the Baltic.

CHAPTER VI. CHRISTMAS AT THE LONGSTONE LIGHTHOUSE.

"It came upon the midnight clear,
That glorious song of old,
From angels bending near the earth
To touch their harps of gold:
'Peace on the earth, good-will to men,
From heaven's all gracious King;'
The world in solemn stillness lay,
To hear the angels sing."

"Yet with the woes of sin and strife
The world has suffered long;
Beneath the angel-strain have rolled
Two thousand years of wrong;
And man at war with man, hears not
The love-song which they bring—
Oh, hush the noise, ye men of strife,
And hear the angels sing."—E. H. Sears.

It does not matter very much where Christmas is kept, so long as all the family can get together, and all hearts be filled with His love, who came as a Babe in Bethlehem to bring blessings to the world. Under such circumstances, Christmas is a joyous time everywhere, and dear friends, meeting together for a few days of social intercourse, may well bless the season, and retain their old love for it.

It is interesting to think of the various scenes into which the grey head and kindly face of old Father Christmas are brought with shouts of welcome. He comes to the palace, where flowers and perfumes give him a taste of summer's months of gladness, and where men who occupy elevated positions are glad to rest them in his genial smile. He goes to the farm-house, in the country round which the bare fields lie, and the ground is as hard as if it never meant to be fruitful again; and the farmer feels the winter which has a Christmas in it is almost as good as a spring-time of promise. He goes to the tradesmen in the town, and the carol singers make even the busy streets melodious and suggestive of peace and good-will; and the shopkeeper blesses the prosperity of trade, that enables him to welcome the festive time with well-filled tables and good cheer. And best of all, he goes to ships at sea, and lonely lighthouses, and places where he is really needed, to cheer sad hearts and raise depressed spirits; and