"Why do you want a holiday, Grace?"
"The harvest is ready to be got in, and they have sent to me to go and help."
"But that would not be a holiday, my child. Harvesting is very hard work."
"It would be like a holiday to me, father. I should like to go very much. I have not seen a corn-field all the summer, and I know the country must be looking very beautiful now. I long to go. Do let me, if you can possibly spare me."
"Well; we must not be selfish, Grace. You can go if you like, only come back as soon as you can."
So Grace had her holiday that summer, nor did she return until she had won golden opinions from the friends with whom she stayed, and among whom she worked.
One old woman especially, who felt an affection for the girl, and who, while they worked together, often received kindness and consideration from her, esteemed so highly her young companion of the harvest-field, that she always remembered her with fondness, and when, afterward, she heard that she had saved the lives of some people, and made her name honoured and beloved in all parts of the land, she declared that she was not surprised, for she had known Grace Darling herself.
The girl was not allowed to remain long away, for she was wanted at home. By this time most of the members of the family were out earning their own living; and the house was quiet and desolate without Grace. When the harvest was over, therefore, and the days were growing short and dark, she returned with many a tale to tell of what she had seen and heard on the mainland, and we may be sure that, on some evenings during the next winter, her reminiscences kept the household from being dull.
Grace was now growing up into womanhood. William Howitt, who saw her afterward, thus describes her:—"She had the sweetest smile I have ever seen in a person of her station and appearance. You perceive that she is a thoroughly good creature, and that under her modest exterior lies a spirit of the most exalted devotion—so entire, that daring is not so much a quality of her nature, as that of the most perfect sympathy with suffering or endangered humanity, swallowing up and annihilating everything like fear or self-consideration."
It will be seen from this description of our heroine, that she was, in a word, a good girl. She was dutiful and loving to her parents, and kindly to all creatures. She could not see suffering without trying to alleviate it; nor could she stay to consider whether or not she was putting her own life in danger when others needed her assistance. From all that we know of this northern maiden, we conclude that Mr. Howitt was right. It was scarcely daring that prompted the heroic action that made her famous, so much as a habit of feeling the most constant and perfect sympathy with suffering.