It falls upon her form, that gentle moonshine, and her features are lit up as with a twilight ray of heaven: it lingers over her treasures as though it loved them for her sake. It streams upon that portrait on the wall, and illuminates its pensive and unchanging face, as with the shadow of a living smile; and Christian’s heart grows calm and still within her beating breast, like an infant’s, and holy scenes of old come up before her liquid eyes, like ancient pictures, with that steadfast face upon the wall shining upon her in every one; not so constant in its sad expression, but varying with every varying scene, till the gathering tears hang on her cheeks like dewdrops, and she may not look again. And there is peace in that household this night, peace and sweet serenity, and gentle hopefulness; for a blessing is on its prayer-hallowed roof and humble threshold, and angels stand about its quiet doorway, guarding the children of their King--the King of Kings. [Illustration: text decoration] CHRISTIAN MELVILLE. EPOCH IV. There is no emblem of our lives so fit As the brief days of April, when we sit Folding our arms in sorrow, our sad eyes Dimmed with long weeping; lo! a wondrous ray, Unhoped-for sunshine bursting from the skies To chase the shadow of our gloom away. And lest the dazzling gladness blind us, lo! An hour of twilight quiet followeth slow, Moistening our eyelids with its grateful tears, Strengthening our vision for the radiant beam That yet shall light these unknown future years,-- Each joy, each grief, in its appointed room, Ripening the precious fruit for heaven’s high harvest home. [Illustration: text decoration] CHAPTER I. _Benedict_. Pray thee, sweet Mistress Margaret, deserve well at my hands by helping me to the speech of Beatrice. * * * * * Sweet Beatrice, wouldst thou come when I called thee? _Much ado about Nothing._