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

preserving your lives, by the help of God."

"Your heroic conduct ought to be reported to the authorities."

"But we are placed here to keep the lamps burning; and though we are very glad to save lives, you understand that is not the work we are paid for doing."

"You are paid though, by the consciousness of having done a good deed, and the gratitude of those whom you have rescued."

"Certainly, but you must please excuse me now, as I must relieve my son, and take my turn in watching by the beacon."

"And now," said Mrs. Darling, "I am sure you will be glad of some refreshment."

Indeed they were; and Mrs. Darling, who was a good housekeeper, and had a few delicacies in her larder, knew how to satisfy the appetites of her guests. It was a very cheerful party that gathered around the lighthouse-table that evening, and when William Darling joined them there was no lack of conversation. The guests were evidently persons of gentle birth and habits, and the Darlings knew how to appreciate such society. The social Grace was especially delighted, and almost felt thankful for the storm that had brought such interesting and agreeable guests to the lighthouse-home. The two girls, differently reared as they had been, were yet able to fraternise, and find mutual pleasure in the society of each other; and the hours passed almost unheeded, while the storm, which had abated none of its tempestuous fury, raged violently without, and failed to disturb the happiness of those who were so pleasantly occupied.

It was very late before they could bring themselves to break up the social party, and retire to rest.

"We have not a spare room to offer you. Will you mind sharing mine?" asked Grace of Miss Dudley.

"Not at all. I shall be glad to do so. I am very tired, and do not think that even the storm will keep me awake," replied Caroline Dudley.

"You will sleep in the boys' bed," said Mrs. Darling to the gentlemen. "William will watch the light to-night, and so relieve his father."

The strangers slept soundly. It seemed that the storm did but rock them to sleep, for it was not until a late hour in the morning that they awoke. Miss Dudley found that her companion had already risen, and the sun was pouring into the little room its bright unclouded glory. But the sea was very rough; and as soon as she had asked the opinion of the weather-wise lighthouse-keeper as to the possibility of returning, she found that for that day at least they must remain on the island. A bountiful breakfast of tea, coffee, fish, and eggs, had been provided by the hostess, to which the visitors did ample justice.

"I am afraid, Mrs. Darling, that we shall have to encroach still further upon your hospitality," said Dudley; "Mr. Darling informs me that we cannot leave the island to-day, as the sea continues so rough."

"I am only too glad to have you for my guests," said Mrs. Darling, heartily.

"As for me," said Grace, turning to her newly-found but already beloved friend, "I could wish that the storm might last a very long time."

"I should be glad to stay too," said Miss Dudley, "if my father only knew of our safety. He is not strong, and the suspense may do him serious injury. He will be most anxious about us, I know. He was quite aware of the kind of vessel we sailed in, and when he saw how severe the storm was, he would naturally conclude that we were lost. I am afraid of the effect that the sorrow may have upon him in his weak state."

"He will surely not lose hope for some time," said Darling; "and to-morrow, if all is well, you will be able to return to him."

"But our boat was so injured by being beaten against the rocks, that I fear it is useless," remarked one of the gentlemen.

"I will take you across in my boat," said Darling, "so you need have no anxiety on that score."

"Oh, Mr. Darling, you make us more and more your debtors."

They were consoled, however, with the thought that the suspense of Mr. Dudley would be relieved before very long; and as nothing could be done on that day, they resigned themselves to their situation, and prepared to have a delightful holiday.

When breakfast was over, Grace took Caroline to the turret of the lighthouse to enjoy the extensive view which such a point of vantage afforded. A better day for the purpose could scarcely have been chosen, for the fleecy clouds floated gracefully, the air was calm, and the sun shone forth in splendour. The ocean had not recovered from the effects of the angry storm, and the wild white waves leaped up as if they would overwhelm and altogether destroy everything that offered the least opposition.

Miss Dudley gazed spell-bound on the scene, and could not find words in which to express her admiration; while Grace, to whom it was all very familiar, confessed that even the could never look upon it without feelings of wonder and delight. She pointed out the famous Castle of Bamborough, with its battlements and towers; then Holy Island, on which could be seen the ruins of its ancient priory; and also the Cheviot hills on the north.

"Have you ever heard any of the legends of our neighbourhood," inquired Grace? "No," replied Caroline; "but it will give me very great pleasure to listen to them."

Nothing could have pleased Grace better than to pour into the willing ears of the young lady who had so strangely been brought to her, and who had so attracted her affections, the old-world stories in which she herself so greatly delighted. But to Miss Dudley the pleasure was even greater. She was naturally romantic, being possessed of a warm poetic temperament; and what treat could have been greater to such a maiden than to sit in the lonely lighthouse tower of the weird Longstone Island, and listen to the mysterious fascinating legends of Northumbria, as told in melodious accents by the lips of the enthusiastic island girl? What wonder that as she listened, and the other talked, the two young hearts were drawn to each other in trustful and admiring friendship?

They were soon recalled, however, for the three young men, Dudley, Morrington, and William Darling, wished them to join them in a walk about the islands. They strolled together along the beach; and as the tide was ebbing, the sands were firm and pleasant. The two girls kept together, and Grace pointed out to her friend those objects which were the most interesting.

"That is the island on which St. Cuthbert lived, and we can see the hermitage he built. He came here from the priory of Lindisfarne, because he thought that a monastic life provided too many luxuries and enjoyments for the good and prosperity of his soul. He thought they distracted his mind, and prevented it from dwelling sufficiently on religious subjects."

"But it is not necessary to become a recluse in order to serve God?"

"No, for He has placed us in families, and given us social duties to perform. But I suppose St. Cuthbert thought differently; and so he came to spend his days on the island. He must have found discomfort and privation enough to satisfy even him, for it is said that there was neither water nor vegetation upon the island, which was then altogether barren and uninhabitable. Besides that, it had the reputation of being haunted by malignant demons, which took up their abode there. The saint, however, was not afraid of evil spirits, nor anything else, and the spot became very dear to him."

"But how could he live if there was nothing on the island to eat and drink?"

"Oh, of course he worked some miracles, and his wants were easily supplied; at least so the legend says. I have read a description of the marvellous change which came over the island while he lived upon it. 'The flinty rock bubbled with fresh water; the once barren soil, with prolific abundance, brought forth grain; trees and shrubs, bearing fruit, decked the smiling shores; the troubled waters clapped their hands for joy; the plains assumed a mantle of green, embroidered with flowers, the evil spirits were bound in eternal darkness, and angels of light communed with the saint!' Strange, if true, was it not?"

"It was indeed! But what has become of the remarkable verdure?"

"Oh, it is said that although the demons were never again allowed to return, the island became as sterile as before when St. Cuthbert died, and no more exerted his miraculous influence on its behalf."

"Are there any relics of this wonderful saint still remaining on the islands?"

"Yes, there are the ruins of a church, and in them is a stone coffin, which at one time contained the remains of the saint."

Caroline laughingly replied, that as the restless body occupied a large number of coffins before it finally found a home in Durham Cathedral, it was only fair that the Farne Islands should have one.

"Now, let me tell you about Holy Island," said Grace. "That also has the ruins of an ancient priory, and possesses more historical associations and wonderful legends than I could possibly repeat. It is a very beautiful island, though it is in decay, and has lost its former glory and importance. As early as the Saxon Heptarchy, there was a monastery on Lindisfarne. It was pillaged and burned by the Danes, those terrible sea-kings who caused our country so much suffering in the days of old, and who seemed to be so fond of Holy Island, that they came to it again and again."

"They were wonderfully persistent, were they not?"

"They were indeed! There are many other places of interest, Warkworth and Dunstanborough among the rest."

"I shall try to persuade my father to pay a visit to those places before we leave the neighbourhood," said Miss Dudley; "and now Grace, since you have told me so much that is interesting, I will try to tell you a little about the far different scenes among which I live."

"Do," said Grace, "I shall be glad to hear anything about your life."

Caroline's story was almost as strange to Grace as Grace's had been to Caroline, for it had to do with a class of society about which the young lighthouse girl knew nothing. Miss Dudley was used to shine in circles to which Grace Darling would not have been admitted, and her description of the habits of thought and modes of life of the people among whom she associated, was graphic, piquant, and most entertaining. Like many a merry, warm-hearted girl, she cherished a half-contemptuous opinion of much that was fashionable and gay; and to hear her speak of the crowded assemblies, the dreary dinner parties, the exciting balls, and the endless morning calls, was to give Grace both surprise and amusement.

The two girls, as they thus stood, talking to each other of their lives and associations, formed a very striking contrast. Miss Dudley was tall, dark and beautiful, with classic features and graceful form. Her mother was a Spanish lady, and from her the daughter had inherited the splendid dark eyes and hair, as also the ardent and romantic nature, which had thrown such a spell round Grace. Her intellect was of the highest order, and had been most carefully cultivated, so that her natural enthusiasm had been restrained and disciplined, but not subdued or weakened. She had only just left school, which was one of the highest class, where all the modern accomplishments necessary to a refined education had been thoroughly taught her; and as she had moved always in good society, her manners had acquired that easy grace and polish which can scarcely be obtained under other circumstances.

Grace Darling, on the contrary, had, as we know, received little if any instruction beyond that which her own father had imparted. But although her opportunities had been meagre, she had made the