We know what happened. Darling yielded to his daughter’s prayer, and the survivors of the Forfarshire, few in number it is true, but all that outlived the fury of that awful night, were brought by Grace and her father safely back to the lighthouse and carefully nursed by the humane keepers till the weather changed and they were taken to Bamborough. Thus the ambition of Grace’s life had been realized; she had tested her courage, and it had not failed her. All along the Northumbrian coast the news of the daring deed spread with wonderful rapidity: presents and letters were heaped upon Grace Darling in a manner she had never expected. The Trinity House granted the ‘family’ leave of absence from the lighthouse, and the Duke and Duchess of Northumberland entertained them at Alnwick, where, on leaving, Grace was presented with a purse containing £700. Her exploit was the talk of London and of all England, and the print-sellers’ windows gave a liberal display of her portraits. She received all these tokens of approbation with an unaffected pleasure that added to her charms and her popularity, but her naturally retiring disposition would not allow her to accept the offer of an enterprising theatre manager to appear nightly on the London boards. [Illustration: GRACE DARLING.] Neither were offers of a more permanent nature—offers of a heart and home—accepted by her; the very exploit that had made her famous seemed to bind her affections more closely to her insular home and her duties there. She spent the rest of her days on the lighthouse, helping her father and mother as before, and only paying an occasional visit to the mainland. Though innumerable accounts of her early days and of her daring exploit exist—the latter is the subject of poem, song, and story—we hear little of her subsequent life, or of the time when the illness which a few years later terminated fatally first manifested itself. She died on October 20, 1842, and was buried in the churchyard at Bamborough. Her death was the signal for a fresh outburst of literary commemoration of her daring act; but no more appropriate tribute to her memory exists than the lifeboat now stationed at Bamborough, which bears her name, and which, winter after winter, renders good service to vessels wrecked or in distress, often on the very reef on which the Forfarshire stranded. Grace Darling is not forgotten by the stalwart Northumbrian sailors who man that lifeboat; her story and the song in praise of her courage has been taught to them by their fathers and mothers, and they may yet be heard to sing it, as in their well-fitted boat, possessed of the latest appliances to ensure safety, they make their way to some sinking ship, and think of the frail girl and her father, who in nothing more than an open rowing boat risked their lives to save a perishing crew. CHAPTER V THE SPURN HEAD