For about a quarter of an hour he was left in peace, while Lily was busily employed with a pencil and paper, under the shadow of a book, and at length laid before him the following verses:— ‘What is the source of gentleness, The spring of human blessedness, Bringing the wounded spirit healing, The comforts high of heaven revealing, The lightener of each daily care, The wing of hope, the life of prayer, The zest of joy, the balm of sorrow, Bliss of to-day, hope of to-morrow, The glory of the sun’s bright beam, The softness of the pale moon stream, The flow’ret’s grace, the river’s voice, The tune to which the birds rejoice; Without it, vain each learned page, Cold and unfelt each council sage, Heavy and dull each human feature, Lifeless and wretched every creature; In which alone the glory lies, Which value gives to sacrifice? ’Tis that which formed the whole creation, Which rests on every generation. Of Paradise the only token Just left us, ’mid our treasures broken, Which never can from us be riven, Sure earnest of the joys of Heaven. And which, when earth shall pass away, Shall be our rest on the last day, When tongues shall fail and knowledge cease, And throbbing hearts be all at peace: When faith is sight, and hope is sure, That which alone shall still endure Of earthly joys in heaven above, ’Tis that best gift, eternal Love!’ ‘What have you there?’ said Mr. Mohun, who had come towards them while Claude was reading the lines. Taking the paper from Claude’s hand, he read it to himself, and then saying, ‘Tolerable, Lily; there are some things to alter, but you may easily make it passable,’ he went on to his own place, leaving Lilias triumphant. ‘Well, Claude, you see I have the great Baron on my side.’ ‘I am of the Baron’s opinion,’ said Claude, ‘the only wonder is that you doubted it.’ ‘You seemed to say that love was good for nothing.’ ‘I said nothing but that Lily has a rhyme.’ ‘And saying that I was silly, was equivalent to saying that love was nothing,’ said Lily. ‘O Lily, I hope not,’ said Claude, with a comical air. ‘Well, I know I often am foolish, but not in this,’ said Lily; ‘I do say that mere duty is not lovable.’ ‘Say it if you will then,’ said Claude, yawning, ‘only let me finish this sermon.’ Lily set herself to reconsider some of her lines: but presently Emily left the room, Claude looked up, and Lily exclaimed, ‘Now, Claude, let us make a trial of it.’ ‘Well,’ said Claude, yawning again, and looking resigned.