MOORE’S  RURAL  NEW-YORKER. 
OVER  THE  HILL. 
Thebe’s  a  face  I  must  ever  remember, 
ThouKh  1  may  not  behold  it  a«ram 
Through  the  golden  haze  of  September, 
Or  the  gray  November  rain ; 
A  face  that  was  Joyous  and  tender 
As  the  sea  in  its  summer  splendor ; 
And  a  smile  that  was  clear  and  stUl 
As  the  sunrise  over  the  hill. 
There  were  steps  that  flow  to  meet  me, 
Cmshing  the  moss  and  the  fem ; 
Blue  eyes  that  brightened  to  greet  mo, 
■\Vheu  others  we.ro  cold  and  stem. 
tVe  crossed,  in  the  sunny  weather, 
The  blossoming  Gelds  together. 
And  rested  beside  the  rill, 
Coming  over  the  bill. 
Now  the  hill  Is  barren  and  lonelj'. 
And  the  sea  is  moaning  beyond ; 
And  the  bleak  winda  answer  only 
To  my  heart's  cry,  wild  and  fond. 
Palo  asters,  with  dewdrojis  laden. 
Do  you  weep  for  the  blue-eyed  maiden 
Who  sleep.s  in  the  graveyard  chill. 
In  the  graveyard  over  the  hill  ? 
No  longer  the  sea  wears  the  glory 
That  lighted  its  wavc.s  of  old. 
The  moss  and  the  fern  heard  a  story 
That  never  again  can  be  told. 
But  I  only  *ccm  to  outlive  her ; 
Green  bights  lie  beyond  the  dark  river ; 
There  her  step  U>  my  soul  shall  thrill. 
Coming  over  tlie  hill. 
Cfic  ^toni-cirllfr. 
MAX  AND  MARGAKET. 
A  STORY  OF  LOVE  AND  DUTY. 
BT  TIOI.ET  FULLER. 
[Concluded  from  page  77,  last  No.] 
CHAPTER  II. 
Tub  first  of  September  cuino  at  last  and  tUe  bf.st 
rooms  In  Hentlicoie  Clxace  wore  occupied  by  a 
lively  set  of  guoshs,  oltlcers  belonging  U)  the  Plun¬ 
gers,  and  young  latvyers  anxious  for  a  vacallon 
from  CoUc-upm-Lyttlcton— all  loaded  with  gun 
cases,  de^lrui  j  of  showing  their  sport  ing  prowess. 
They  were  nearly  all  actiualiitod  with  Count  vos 
llKRXSTEiN,  and  aslonl.shcfl  that  such  a  famous 
shot  w:w  not  more  anxious  to  dtsiday  Ids  skill. 
But  the  Count  had  the  game  In  view;  and  a.s  it 
was  It  II  rnaiiner  forblddeu.  tlie  pursuit  of  It  be-  i 
cams  more  delightful.  Poor  Max!  He  could  not 
resist  the  temptation  or  lingering  la  .Makgakkt’s  I 
society— of  sunning  lilin.seU  In  the  light  of  her 
sweet  beauty.  D.ay  after  day,  after  arraying  him¬ 
self  In  shooting  eosmiae  and  firing  .a  few  shots 
with  the  others,  he  would  graduuHy  fall  behind 
and  watch  hl.s  opportunity  to  steal  away  rrom 
them.  With  a  few  birds  in  hand— tor  the  Major, 
of  course,— he  woiiM  present  lilmsclt  at  the  cot¬ 
tage  and  ask  .Maruakrt  to  read  German,  which 
reading  would  ha  prolonged  until  Heutie  madehts 
appearance  for  luncheon,  as  lie  always  kept  up  the 
habit  of  taking  that  meal  with  the  Major.  Of 
course  the  Count's  state  of  inlnd  was  very  patent 
to  his  friend,  who  only  looked  upon  that  state  of 
things  03  temporary.  “  Poor  fellow,”  he  thought, 
‘•he  may  enjoy  hlni.selt  now;  It  will  all  be  over 
when  he  returns  to  riijrmany  ami  the  Counte.s.s 
Ida.  I  only  hope  that  M.iwuabkt  sviii  not  suiTcr," 
Croquet  parties  and  high  tens  Avere  the  order  of 
the  day  at  the  Chace  noAv,  and  Bkrtie  insisted  on 
Mako.iukt  makin  ,•  her  appearance  under  his  care, 
for  was  she  not  hl.s  by  right  of  possession  ?  He 
intended  to  many'  her  .some  day,  although  he. 
had  not  exactly  put  the  quasiion  to  her  yet;  still 
he  knew  she  would  have  him  when  ho  chose.  Of 
this  Bbktie  need  not  have  been  so  sure,  as  the 
Pluiigere  Avere  fusel naled,  to  a  man,  Avlth  this 
“Belle  .Makoukritb,”  although,  a.s  her  cousin's 
intentions  regarding  her  Avere  suspected,  they  ad¬ 
mired  her  at  a  distance.  The  young  ladles  of  the 
vicinity  Avho  were  bblden  to  these  festivities  were 
equally  smitten  Avlth  the  handsome,  melancholy 
Count,  but  In  v'aln.  He  had  eye.s  but  for  one  per¬ 
son,  whose  graceful,  slender  form,  aiid  fair,  deli¬ 
cate  high-bred  face,  formed  a  striking  contrast  to 
the  full-blown  heauUcs  of  the  ciiimiry  maidens. 
And  Makoahkt?  She  Avas  in  a  dream;  a  dream 
of  happiness  and  perfect  oonient  Tliis  hero  Avith 
the  dark  eyes  and  the  wonderful  A'olce— this  bi'ave, 
true  heart,— was  her  beau  ideal  of  all  manly  per- 
tcctlom  She  did  not  look  forward  to  the  time 
when  he  should  he  gone;  she  llA'cd  in  the  heautl- 
ful,  happy  present. 
one  wet  morning  at  tbe  end  of  September,  the 
Squire,  Avho  opened  his  mall  bag  at  the  breakfast 
table,  handed  the  Count  a  letter  at  the  receipt  of 
which  he  seemed  dlsturhed.  ••  a  love  letter, 
Count?"  said  Cecil  Lascelles,  a  young  officer, 
whose  wit  and  person  Avere  alike  heavy.  “  No,” 
said  JLax  carelessly;  “from  my  uncle.  In  Berlin. 
I  fancy  It  contains  my  recall  to  Gennany.” 
“  Aav  ;  sorry  to  lose  you,  my  dear  felloAv.” 
••  Nonsense,”  said  Bertik  IIeathcotk,  who  was 
exploring  the  depths  of  a  g.Ainc  pie.  “you  can’t 
go.  Wli.At  Avlll  the  fair  ladles  of  Belgravia  do, 
Avlthout  their  best  Avaltzer  ?” 
••  Oh,  they  avih  do  -.vlthout  me  very  well,”  was 
the  ansAver,  as  Max  rase  from  the  table. 
“Whither  away?"  said  liERTtE.  “You  are  not 
going  out  In  this  rain  ?" 
“  Only  as  far  as  the  library,  to  read  my  letter.” 
He  closed  the  door  and  reaching  the  library 
found  It  empty,  and  seated  himself  by  the  window 
to  read  his  letter.  It  avas  from  his  uncle,  the  guar¬ 
dian  of  Ida  von  L.asstein,  entreating  him  to  re¬ 
turn  to  Germany  and  obey  hia  mother’s  wish  by 
marrying  Ida,  whose  health  was  surferlng  on  ac¬ 
count  or  .Max's  neglect  and  dlsrrganl  of  Uls  be¬ 
trothal  voAv.  “.Vhil,”  added  the  writer,  "you  are 
In  honor  bound  to  fultlll  the  contract.  You  must 
throw  tisldo  all  personal  feelJugs  AA’hen  the  honor 
of  the  VON  Bernsteins  Is  at  stake.  You  must  do 
your  duty,  my  .Max.  I  need  say  no  more.” 
“  No,”  thought  Ma.x,  “he  need  say  no  more.  The 
honor  of  the  von  Bernsteins  aa'III  not  suffer  In  my 
hands.  Bnl.— It  I.t  all  over. '  And  ho  rose,  and 
Avalked  up  and  doAvn  the  room  tor  a  moment, 
thinking  whii  t  he  should  do.  lie  stopped  suddenly 
—his  rcsolA'c  was  taken.  “  I  AvlHgo,’’he  said.  “It 
Is  for  the  last  time,"  lie  left  the  room  and  the 
house,  and  wa.s  soon  making  his  Avay  down  the 
aA'enue,  without  either  cloak  or  umbrella. 
“Hallo,’'  .said  Cecil  I.ascelt.ks,  vaIio  saw  him 
from  the  illnlng-room  Avlndow;  “the  Count  has 
gone  out  In  the  rain." 
“Gone  for  a  walk,  I  suppose,”sald  Bkrtib.  “He 
Is  a  strange  fellow.’’ 
“Ain’t  he,’”  sdd  Cecii..  “He  reminds  mo  of 
Cn ari.es  pi:  Moor  and  the  rohhor  fellows  in  the 
play,  with  .sLllC'lto.s  and  such  thlnv.s,  you  knoAV.” 
“  exactly,  ths,  hut  I  A'.  oiild  notadvise  you  in  tell 
him  so;  he  is  a  Ilrst-rate  sliot.” 
“I  don’t.  AViiiit  to  be  a  mark  for  him,  I  assure  yon. 
I  havo  too  great  a  regard  for  the  Queen  to  roh  her 
of  one  of  her  best  officers.” 
“  That’s  right,"  said  ItER'nE,  laughing.  “  Let  ua 
go  to  the  st.ablcs  to  inspect  the  horses  and  .smoke 
a  cigar.”  And  as  BEiiTtK  smoked,  he  Avondcred 
Avhat  Avas  toklng  pLicoattliocottage,  for  of  course 
Max  had  gone  there. 
Poor  fellow  I  AVhea  he  reached  the  cottage,  al¬ 
though  ItAvas  sllll  early,  Maroaret  was  at  Avork 
In  her  bright  llttlo  drawing-room,  Avhere  ?.ho  had 
caused  a  tiro  to  bo  mado  on  accotmt  of  tho  damp 
Aveathor.  “Hoav  Avet  you  arG,”8ho  said,  as  sbo 
rose  to  meet  him. 
“Am  I?”  hoamswered, looking iithlscoatslecvc 
onAvhlclitbo  raindrops  ghr.tciio  L 
“Y'oumnst  havo  this  changed;  papa  Avill  lend 
you  ono  of  liLs  morning  coats.” 
“It  Is  uotiilng,”  he  said  hurriedly.  “1  have  no 
time.”  But  she  Insist  ed,  and  conducted  him  to  tho 
Major's  room,  from  av hence  ho  emerged  In  a  velvet 
morning  coat,  looking  lu  Maruarets  p.aril!il  eyes 
like  a  liii  udsome  young  artist,  bho  aa-rh  «o  full  of 
sweet  femlnlno  cares  for  lilin,  i hat  it  rcdmibled 
tlio  distress  which  he  felt  at  their  approaching 
separation.  But  he  mast  sec  heruloiie,  and  Major 
Tueheknk  seemed  to  eoiislder  it  hLs  dutj'tore.- 
malnln  the  room,  while  the  precious  ni'iments 
were  ipilckl.v  pmsslng.  He  mitst.  make  an  attempt 
to  .see  her  alone  for  the  last  time. 
“Are  Ave  to  have  any  German  to-day?”  he 
iLSked. 
“o,  yes,  It  you  wish  to  be  troubled  Avlth  It.  The 
iKHiks  are  here,”  she  continued. 
The  Major  rose,  saying,  “  Well,  I  tvlll  see  you 
after  a  while.” 
“  He  must  stay  until  ills  coat  is  dry,  papa,"  said 
Margaret  laughingly. 
The  Major  departed  and  M  aroarkt,  sitting  dOAvn 
to  a  small  table,  began  to  prepare  her  book.s.  But 
her  teacher  avos  silent,  and  looking  up  she  saAV 
that  he  was  standing  Avlth  his  eyes  fixed  on  the 
gray  sky  and  falling  rain.  “  He  Is  not  In  splrtta,” 
she  thought,  wltJi  Tuekla,  “  •  Wherefore  Is  he  I 
not?’  ‘Count,"  she  said,  aloud,  “are  you  111?—  j 
Avhal  Is  tho  matter  to-day  ?”  j 
Ho  turned.  "Not  111  In  body,  hut  111  In  mind,  i 
MIAS  TiiEiiERNE.  This  iH  our  last  lc.sson.  I  .am  i 
going  away." 
“  tlolng  .a  way  !”  MAKOAUKTgreAv  as  pale  as  deat  h 
and  the  book  droppeil  from  ber  hands.  Max  dared 
not  li.HAk  al  her.  “  1  am  sorry,"  she  fallereil. 
“Sorry?”  ho  repented,  looking  at  her  and  speak¬ 
ing  with  keen  rciiroiicli  la  ills  voice.  “  Isilmtall  7” 
*•  What  more  can  I  say?”  and  she  raised  her 
c.ves. 
“Say  I’’  he  exclaimed,  passloniitel.v,  all  hts  a.s- 
HUined  nrinno-ss  \'niilshlii.g-“Sa.v  that  you  are 
sorry  because  .A'ou  Ioa'c  me,  M argaukt.  You mu.st 
knoAv  ouly  too  well  t  hat  1  love  you.”  And  ho  bent 
over  tho  choir  In  Avhlch  sbe  siu,  until  his  dark 
luu.staclio  iilinost  toiiehed  the  shining  ripples  of 
her  ehost.nut  hall'.  She  was  trembling  Intently. 
“  M  AKGAHKT,’’lic  sutd  softly,  “.voulovo  mo.doyou 
not?"  She  bent  her  head  In  a.ssent.  “Then  tell 
me  so- say,  •  jMax,  I  love  you.’  ’’ 
Thus  iullnred  she  raised  her  blue  eyes  to  his 
face.  “M  Ax,’’sliosald,  lreiiiulousl.v,  “Ma.x,  I  love 
you.” 
He  bent^  as  If  to  take  her  to  bis  beari,  then  sud¬ 
denly  left  her  side  .sndAvnlked  the  floor  with  hasty 
steps.  A I  length  lu*  seemed  to  tnrm  a  sudden  ro- 
solve.  “Margakkt,’’ he  said,  coming  towards  her, 
‘•Meine  Hebe,  yon  hellove  that  I  love  you.  do  I'ou 
not?— and  yef  T  am  going  to  pLace  an  otormil  har¬ 
rier  between  ua.”  ShPga/.edat  m  Avondcrlngly. 
“See,” and  lio  took  his  uncle’s  lot.ter  from  his 
pocket,  “Ibis  win  part  tis  fbrever.  Read  It  for 
yourself.” 
She  took  it,  and  aaaho  read,  started  at  the  name 
of  tho  Countess  Ida.  The  letter  fell  from  her  hand, 
while  tAvo  large  tears  trickled  slowly  down  tbo 
lialo  c.lioek.s.  .Max  Avas  almost  bosldo  himself;  ho 
throw  himself  on  his  knees  beside  her.  “Marga¬ 
ret,  darling  of  my  heart.1  do  not  weep;  It  breaks 
my  heart  to  see  your  b-ai's.” 
She  drcAv  her  hand  from  him.  exclaiming  with 
sudden  pa.sslon,  “  Yon  have  broken  7/g/  heart.  You 
came  to  my  peaceful  home,  where  I  had  been  so 
linppy— you,  the  hetrotlicd  of  anotlier.  to  win  my 
lov(!  and  leave  me.  Oli,  Max,”  she  said,  breaking 
down,  “Avhy  did  you  make  me  love  you?” 
Ills  face  flushed  crlmsoii.  “  M  aroarkt,  listen  to 
me,”  he  said.  “  I  place  my  fato  In  your  hands;  or 
my  OAvn  will  I  will  never  leave  you.  When  you 
hear  all  my  story,  you  shall  deelde.  Now,”  he 
eoni  Inucd  tii  ter  I  elUng  her  all,  “  I  havo  never  loved 
I  DA,  poor  child.  I  have  never  thought  of  her  as  my 
THE  VILLAGE  BARBER. 
future  wire.  When  l  came  here  I  thought  myself 
free  to  choose,  and  as  to  loving  you,  Avho,  my  bo- 
loved,  Avho  could  help  It?” 
Margaret  shook  ber  head  sadly  as  she  listened 
to  the  pleading  accents  of  that  dear  volce.^  She 
Avius  gazing  at  tho  cold,  gray  sky,  wVillp  a  struggle 
was  going  on  In  her  hoart-n  si  niggle  between 
Love  and  Duty.  She  hud  tho  Impplnesaof  another 
In  her  grasp  n.s  avcu  as  her  oavii.  Ida  must  not  bo 
forgotten,  and  an  nngel  Avlth  a  flainltig  sword 
seemed  to  stand  betAveen  her  and  love,  driving  her 
sternly  forth  Into  (be  cold,  blank  path  of  duty. 
M.vx  was  waUdilug  her  eagerly.  VVItli  Mm  almost 
dlvlno  light  of  sclf.abncgii Moil  III  lier  blue  eyes, 
she  turned  to  him.  “Max,”  she  said,  ami  her 
sweet  voice  grcAV  Arm  as  she  conllmird.  "  l  am  a 
80ldler’.s  daughter,  ami  T  liiive  been  tn light  that 
duty  Is  llrst  of  all;  evcryUilng  else  la  secondary.” 
Ho  cmiglit  her  linnd  liiiplorltigly.  She  took  his 
gently  In  her  oAvn,  and  Avoman-llke  fried  to  con¬ 
sole  him.  “  Max,  beloved  .Max,  do  not  iiiakn  my 
task  too  liai'fl.  You  must  go;  you  cannot  break  a 
sacred  iiromlse  made  to  your  dying  mother.  And 
Mils  girl;  she  loves  ,von  of  course ;  you  must  not 
break  her  heart.  Krmeniber,  dearest,  Ave  must 
not  llvo  for  oiu-selves  alone,  but  tor  oUicrs,  and 
tho  kuoAviedgo  Mmt  wo  linve  made  them  happy 
AvUl  bring  us  insolation  al  the  last.” 
“  Mahgakkt,”  im  said  passionately,  “you  do  not 
love  me;  you  could  not  reason  so  coldly  if  you 
did." 
“  Not  love  you?  O,  Max,  I  love  you  too  Av^ell  to 
permit  you  to  act  dishonestly  for  my  sake." 
“  AYoiild  we  had  ncA’cr  nn‘t,’’sald  he  bitterly. 
“O  do  not  say  so;  think  rather  of  Avhat  our  fa- 
A'orlte  Tueki-a  said  to  her  Max.  and  let  wo  say  to 
mine,  ‘  ll’ir  hnbm  gelcht  und  geliebt’ —[a  not  that 
enough?" 
•‘Margaret,  you  arc  an  angel,”  said  her  lover, 
as  he  stooped  and  passionately  kissed  the  llttlo 
cold  hand  that  lay  In  her  lap. 
“No  angol,  hut  a  Aveak  Avoman,  trying  to  do  her 
duty.” 
They  had  both  risen,  and  sho  was  sUuidlrig  near 
lilm,  her  Avliolo  traine  trembling  with  iincontrolla- 
blo  agltotlon.  Before  sho  was  aAvaro  of  what  ho 
was  about  to  do.  Max’s  anus  Avorn  round  her,  and 
she  AVR3  pressed,  strained  rather,  to  his  throbbing 
heart.  “Korglvo  mo,”  ho  said,  as  ho  held  her 
thus.  “His  tho  first,  the  last  time.  FarcAvoll, 
my  lovo,  my  darling.  I  go  only  beenuso  .you  havo 
decided  that  it  Is  best.”  A  nd,  avUJi  one  long,  pns- 
slonato  preSHuro  on  her  Hps,  ho  released  her  and 
AVus  goms 
The  struggle  betAveen  lovo  and  duty  avils  over, 
and“Avoe  to  the  comiuered.”  Margaret  stood 
whero  he  had  left  her,  her  breath  coming  Avlth 
great,  deep  sobs.  She  felt  rather  than  saw  her 
way  to  a  chah',  on  Avhlch  sho  sank  doAvu  with  a 
'  low  moan  of  agony,  “  Farewell,”  she  murmured ; 
“  ah,  yes,  It  Is  ludeed  an  eternal  farewell.  She  sat 
with  clasped  hands  and  tearless  eyes,  taking  no 
nolo  of  time,  until  her  father  entered  tho  room. 
“  Where  Is  the  Count?" 
“  Ho  has  gone.” 
“  Gone  1  1  thought  he  was  going  to  stay  for  lun¬ 
cheon.  It  is  lime.  Is  It  not?" 
“Yes;  1  will  see  about  It." 
She  stood  a  moment  In  the  ball  to  collect  hcrsolf. 
Hoav  could  she  go  through  the  meal  and  talk  In  an 
unrestrained  manner  to  her  father,  Avhllo  her  heart, 
was  breaking  7  But  she  hud  to  repress  her  feel¬ 
ings  and  strive  to  seem  unconcerned  as  she  spoko 
of  Mm  f 'mint’s  departure.  “ Snjjie  e  taei”  la  the 
mutto  of  many  a  woman’s  life,  and  It  became  that 
of  Margaret’s. 
Max  Avent  mccJianlcaUy  along  the  Ilcalhcoto 
avenne,  afti  r  hts  interview,  utterly  rcgardlcs-s  of 
tlie  pouring  rain  and  of  Mm  fact  tJiat  ho  still  wore 
the  coat  of  Major  TitEiiEK.vK.  Ho  reached  tho 
house  and  his  room  unseen,  and  at  length  perceiv¬ 
ing  Mm  saturated  uoiuHUon  of  tho  coat,  rang  for 
lUs  senant,  had  It  dried  and  letnriicd  AvRh  a  note 
of  aiiolcigy  and  farewell.  There  Avag  no  message 
for  Margaret,  but  she  would  understand  tho  omis¬ 
sion, 
BERTIE  IlK.ATncoTK  Avas  sliicorcly  Eorry  to  lose 
libi  friend.  “  You  aviu  marry'  sorm,  I  suppose,  and 
bring  your  Avlfe  hack  on  a  wedding  tour.” 
“  1  havo  no  present  liitentlim  of  manylng,”  aa'us 
theansAver.  Margaret's  name  ivas  ncAcr  men¬ 
tioned  betAveen  them.  .So  .Max  bade  adieu  to  the 
cherished  spot  Avhtro  the  romance  of  hla  life  had 
licgiiii  and  ended.  “  FuicavcU,  dear  Kiighaud  and 
I  hnpplne.ss,’’  he  suld,  as  lie  stood  on  I  he  deck  of  the 
'  sieamer  and  ga/.cd  vvllli  mournful  eyes  on  the 
I  white  clirrs  or  Albion,  as  they  grcAV  more  and  more 
I  distant  to  Ills  view, 
Bertie  came  and  went  to  the  cottage  In  Ills 
i  usual  fashion.  He  noticed  Ills  cmisln's  unusual 
j  paleness  and  npalliy,  but  did  not  comment  on  It, 
I  as  he  suspected  the  cause.  lie  was  more  In  Ioa'c 
I  AvIth  her  than  he  cared  to  own,  and  now  that  he 
j  feared  to  lose,  her,  slm  seerned  move  beauUful  than 
;  ever.  Besides,  Cecil  Lascelles  was  evidently 
,  smitten,  and  us  he  was  heir  to  a  baronetcy',  he 
I  loomed  up  formidably  as  a  rival.  So  Bkiche  dc- 
I  tormlned  to  put  hl3  fate  to  the  tcst<— and  lost.! 
;  Margaret  refused  him  genMy  hut  decidedly.  IIo 
was  terribly  disappointed.  “  It  Is  the  fault  of  that 
'  German, ”  ho  said,  pulling  flercely  at  his  amber 
mustache;  “T  Avlsh  I  had  [never  brought  him 
here.” 
Margaret  flushed  crimson.  “It  Avoitld  hr.A'o 
made  no  difference.  I  havo  always  loved  you 
dearly  as  a  brother,  Bkrtie,  nothing  more.” 
“  It  would  have  groAvn  to  something  more  In 
*  time,  and  y'OU  know  hoAv  my  father  Avishes  our 
marriage,  Margaret." 
I  “Dear  Bertie,"  she  suld,  avIiIIo  her  blue  eyes 
niled  with  teal’s,  “I  am  so  sorry' It  cannot  bo  aa 
you  Avish  ;  but  you  Avlll  find  some  ono  more  Avortliy 
of  you  than  1.” 
He  Avas  touched  by  her  dist  ress.  “  Toll  me  ono 
thing,  Margaret,  and  1  aviH  trouble  you  no  more. 
Do  you  caru  for  von  BERNwrEiN  ?  '  «he  grew  pale 
