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.]

CHAPTER XV.

THE DARLING FAMILY AT HOME.

"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