AUG.121 
THE RURAL 
NEW-YORKER. 
§44? 
f itatrg Utkrilang. 
LOVE IN DEATH. 
CORA L. NOURSE. 
It was bo fair, eo green a Spring— 
A day bo filled with life and light, 
I never dreamed that it could bring 
The Autumn and the starless night. 
I did not dream that, golden tnorn. 
With dew and song, and blossoms sweet 
Could lose the fragrance of the dawn 
In weary noontido’s dust and heat, 
I never dreamed the sultry noon 
With tempest tokens darkly fraught— 
I dreaded not the fell simoon 
’Till all its direful task wae wrought. 
It came—that fearful blast of death; 
It swept o’er all my garden’s pride, 
And in its burning, baleful breath. 
All that life yields of beauty, died! 
The blossoms withered into dust; 
The bending Bkius grow eold and gray ; 
I murmured not, God still is Just 
I wait; I suffer; T obey. 
--- 
LILT DAVIS. 
(Continued from page 525, i 
CHAPTER II. 
“Horn deferred maketh the heart sick!” Lily 
had heard the proverb before, Sbe was beginning 
to realize It now. Winter had passed; It was 
mid-April, and Hammond’s letters were few and 
far between. Certainly he had an excellent string 
of excuses to offer when he did write, and he had 
sent, her his photograph taken In uniform, which 
reposed In a private drawer; but still, though the 
letters were affectionate, they were unsatisfactory, 
Inasmuch as he never alluded to any engagement 
between them, or hinted remotely at any public 
announcement of the same. 
“ 1 must wait, I suppose, and trust him,” said 
Lily to herself; “ but, oh, dear, It Is hard not to see 
him—not to have seen him once all through these 
dreary months. This seat Is unsteady; I shall 
make an undlgnifled descent to the floor If I am 
not. careful.” 
She was perched upon a high chair before a 
large easel in the Antique Room In the School of 
Art at the South Kensington Museum—a quaint, 
pretty little figure, In her large apron tied with 
green ribbons. 
Tho curtains at the doorway swayed aside, and 
Mabel came through. 
“ Won't you come down to lunch ? The bell has 
gone ten minutes.” 
Lily sprang down, and the sisters went off arm- 
in-arm." 
The line luncheon-room was crowded as they 
entered. By a stroke of luck they managed to 
secure a small table tor two In a corner. 
“ What a number of coats!" said Lily, across 
her roll and butler. “It must be the flret day of 
an examination ; they look like cadets.” 
The military examinations for Woolwich and 
Sandhurst were frequently held at the Museum, 
much to the disgust ot the masculine students, 
who on those days found themselves thrown con¬ 
siderably In tho shade. 
Two or three young men who had been sitting 
at a table near, with their backs towards the sis¬ 
ters, rose Just then, one called tor the account 
of t be waiter; the second disputed the right of 
paying; the third seeing an uncommon face in 
the recess by the heavy doors, favored Lily with 
a deliberate! and somewhat Insolent stare. 
Lily Btarted, almost visibly. 
“What la It?” said Mable, surprised at seeing 
her flush violently aud then pale. 
“ Don’t turn your head Just this minute : he is 
looking this way,” answered Lily, excitedly, in a 
low voice; but look, Mabel—did .you ever see such 
an extraordinary likeness ?” 
Mabel had no need t,o ask to whom. He was a 
younger edition of Arthur Hammond, slighter 
and a shade fairer, but there were the same 
dark eyes, the same unmistakable mouth. 
The door swung open. 
“ Come, youngster; you are due again at half¬ 
past one,” said a voice that sent the blood tingling 
from Lily’s face down to her toes and finger¬ 
tips. 
It was Arthur Hammond himself. 
He passed their table without seeing them, and 
laid his hand on his brother's shoulder. 
“There’s an awfully pretty girl behind you,” 
she heard the young one say under his breath. 
Hammond turned. 
“ Miss Davis! Upon my word! this Is delightful. 
1 had no Idea you would be here.” 
Mr. Hammond spoke tho truth for once. He 
would have carefully avoided the luncheon-room 
had he known whom he would meet. He sat down 
beside them while they flnlshed their lunch, 
talking, thought Lily, as only he could talk. The 
brother and his companions had vanished back to 
their duty. 
“ Where do you go now?” he asked, when they 
rose. 
“Back to the schools,” said Mabel. 
“Can I come too, or are gentlemen not ad¬ 
mitted ?” 
“ Not admitted " rrowned Lilly, with mock se¬ 
verity. " But wait—yea, you might come to-day. 
It is Monday, Mabel,” she added, suddenly seized 
with a wild desire to parade this big, good-looking 
omcer by her side through the ranks or girlish 
eyes that she knew must watch them with envy. 
They went through the schools. Hammond had 
nothiug to do, and was nothing loth to be admired. 
It was the most triumphant momeut poor little 
Lily had ever known. There was only one draw¬ 
back—she had not the right to answer proudly to 
the question “ Who is he ?” “ I am engaged to him.” 
But that right would be here some day—of course 
it would; until then she could wait happily. 
“Don’t send me away alone, Lily,” he said 
pleadingly, as they stood In the broad corridor, 
after making a tour of the rooms. 
“ nave you been over the Museum ?” 
“No, I'm dying to see It, and I should lose my¬ 
self to a dead certainty If 1 went by myself. Come 
along, I can only stay an hour longer.” 
Only one hour more to be In his glorious pres¬ 
ence, and she had hungered for the sight or him 
through seven months! 
They went into the Museum. 
“I wonder you know your way about here,” he 
said, “with all these multitudinous stairs and 
doors and galleries. I am glad I have seen it, 
though, i shall picture your sweet UtUe head 
glancing round these cases and disappearing 
through that archway.” 
They were In the Persian court, looking at the 
ferns. It was quiet as a dream. Not a footstep, 
not a voice broke the silence. Even tne old at¬ 
tendant must have retired for a nap, and the 
ever-watchful policeman was conspicuous by his 
absence. 
“You haven’t forgotten me yet, then,” she said, 
softly. 
His answer was to stoop and kiss her. 
“Forgotten you Lily, l shall line you twenty 
for daring to suggest such a heresy.” 
And he took the twenty as coolly as if he had an 
honorable right to them. 
“ Have you been In London long?” she said, 
after a pause. 
“No, I was obliged to run up to try and pull 
Theo through. He Is a lazy young rascal, l came 
up on Wednesday.” 
“ Four days ago, and you haven’t been to see 
me! You wlU come before you go, won’t you ?” 
She regretted her speech the next Instant. 
There rose up before her a vision of their house, 
and their street, and “ Davis’s Livery-stables,” in 
large letters over the archway leading to the 
coach-yard, But she need not have troubled. Mr. 
Hammond had not the faintest Intention or going 
near the house. 
“ I am sorry, but 1 am afraid 1 shan't be able to 
manage It this time, my leave Is so short,”—it was 
a clear fortnight—” and I have business matters 1 
must attend to. Hard lines on me, Isn’t it ? But 
how lucky I was to see you now, pet! 1 ought to 
be off,” he added, looking at hts watch. “I 
promised to meet a fellow to Piccadilly at four, 
and I have to get up here again to dine. Princes* 
Gate—not lar from the Museum, la It ?” 
“Princes' Gate!” Lily looked up at him and 
sighed. “Yes; It Is quite close. Who are your 
friends?” she said, wistfully. 
" The Raynors. Young Raynor Is in our regi¬ 
ment—rather a chum of mine.” 
“Is the father Sir Arthur Raynor, and are tnere 
two daughters?” 
“Yes; why?” 
“Oh! because they are at the schools—the 
girls, I mean—lovely girls 1” 
•She remembered seeing a coroneted carriage 
waiting for them, and she had asked their names. 
Her Information did not seem welcome to her 
auditor. He was rather more Intimately ac¬ 
quainted with the youngest Miss Raynor than 
Lily guessed. 
“They might turn up any minute—which would 
be frightfully awkward. Good bye, Lily,” he said 
aloud; " 1 must go—which Is the way out? Down 
there ?—thanks. Good-bye, little woman- take 
care or yourself.” 
Uls manner was abrupt, almost harsh. 
“ When shall 1 see you again ?” she said, follow¬ 
ing him to the turnstile. 
" Next Summer, I expect. Good-byeaud he 
raised his hat and was gone. 
She went back to the schools, and had a good 
cry in the cloak-room, with her face hidden in 
Mabel’s Jacket. She hardly knew why she cried. 
It was mingled love and longing and sorrowful 
regret that she was not one of the Raynor girls, 
who would move about their brilliant rooms that 
night smiling sweetly at him. 
“But he loves /ue,” she thought. “He kissed 
me, and called me ‘ darling ’ over and over again; 
and It will come all right ki the end.” 
May and June passed; July came; London was 
hot, dusty and Insufferable. They were going 
down to Kyde in August, in Hammond’s last let¬ 
ter he had spoken of seeing her soon; as she en¬ 
tered the dining-room, rosy from reading It, Mrs. 
Davis met her. 
“There’s something in the paper will interest 
you, Lily, about that long-legged ’Ammond’s regi¬ 
ment. I thought .you might like to read it; not 
that I ever cared for ’lrn myself he was a deal too 
tall for me.” 
Lily took the paper mechanically. 
“The troopship ‘ Euphrates ’ Is under orders to 
proceed to India early In September with the 200 th 
Regiment, now stationed at Southsea. she will 
also carry drafts form Aldershot for the 5th Fusil¬ 
iers and ath Dragoons, now In India.” 
She read It twice—three times. The announce¬ 
ment was plain, clear, matter-of-fact. She had read 
similar ones before, with no more Interest than 
she would feel In reading an advertisement col¬ 
umn. Now her heart stood still and the room 
reeled round ner. 
Mrs. Davis had gone out; Mabel was working at 
the table. She pushed tho paper across to her. 
“ He never mentioned It in his letter,” she said, 
in a voice that made Mable drop her work to the 
floor and come round to her side. 
“It may be contradicted to-morrow, dearie; 
don’t tret yourself.” 
“But I must see him! Mab, Mab, 1 must see 
him before he goes 1” 
“So you will, ray sweet; there is more than a 
month yet,” 
They got down to Ryde at last, it was gay, 
fresh and smiling as before; surely the place of all 
others lu which to be happy, and yet Lily was not 
happy. 
She had not seen Hammond yet, and the time 
was growing so terribly short- a little more than 
a week to the day of sailing. 
“Why does he not come?” the girl wondered. 
“ He must have so much to say to me t” 
Three days ot suspense brought on. a nervous 
headache, and she remained Indoors. There were 
four days left now, and then he would be gone. 
In the afternoon Mabel came In, saying that she 
had seen him. She had met him by chance In the 
Arcade, and he had promised to look In and say 
“ Good-bye,” either to-morrow or the day after. 
She did not add that Mr. Hammond was playing 
escort to two charming girls, nor that his manner 
was constrained, and her own frigidly eold. Truth 
to tell, Mabel had begun to hate him heartily, but 
for Lily’s sake she did not say so. 
“How foolish l was to doubt him; I knew he 
would como-the dear fellow! I daresay he has a 
thousand things to worry him |ust now; hut I am 
perfectly happy, Mab. Don’t look like Patience on 
a monument—kiss me at once. How will you like 
to send me oft to India some day ?” She laughed 
tlie lightest, happiest laughter, leantng back In 
herchatr, and clasping her hands behind her head. 
By a tacit understanding Mabel took Mrs. Davis 
away for the uext two afternoons. Lily waited 
alone. He did not come on the following day, 
though she started at every footstep outside, and 
a ring at the bell sent the blood tingling and 
throbbing tumultuously through her veins, leav¬ 
ing her quite faint and unsteady when the shock 
had passed. 
The next afternoon was glorious, warm, and 
still. Everyone was out of doors; a dreamy 
quietude reigned over the house. Hhe had put on 
a soft white dress, and was standing before the 
glass In the sitting-room, fastening a rose at her 
neck. A very lovely picture the lodging-house 
glass with Its green paper gave back; a brown 
sweet head, small mouth, dark delicious eyes, and 
cheeks in which the loveliest color went and came, 
its site turned to catch the sound of a voice that 
was asking for some one at the entrance-door. 
It was only a visitor tor the people up-stalrs! 
She dropped on to the chintz sofa and tried to 
read. 
" Four o’clock; he is very late. I wonder what 
keeps him ?” 
A game of billiards at the Royal Yacht Club 
was keeping Mr. Hammond; but It was over now, 
and he was coming—very leisurely. It Is true, but 
he was coming. He was at the door now—In the 
room! 
“Arthur!" 
She sprang up, trembling with joy from head to 
foot, and blushlDg like a rosy cloud. He sat down 
by her on the sofa. 
“ Well, little sweetheart, we must say good-bye 
at last.” 
“I thought you were never coining,” she mur¬ 
mured. 
“Thought 1 could leave England without an¬ 
other look at you, did you ? But I have been hard 
pressed for time,” and he passed on to Indifferent 
subjects, talking of recruits, baggage, berths, and 
winds and tides. It might be Interesting to him, 
but It was not what she wanted to bear. 
“Have you nothing else to say to me?” she 
asked, softly, half shyly, as he paused. 
He got up aud leaned against the mantel-pieee. 
He looked very graceful in that attitude. She 
rose too. 
" I’m afraid there Isn’t much more to be said,” 
he answered lightly. "It’s au awful shame I 
can’t marry you, Lily,; you would Just suit me. 
upon my honor. I like you better than any girl t 
know, but the futes are against us, little woman; 
L shall have to marry an heiress. 1 thought you 
knew it all along. I’ve only five shillings a day, 
and 1 can’t live on that; hut I’ll give you half-a- 
erown, If lts any use to you—it's my last coin," 
lie held it out to her, hall' comically', as he spoke. 
Poor child! The cruel, crushing blow fell with¬ 
out mercy; yet she bore It. She did not fall, or 
cry, or swoon, or utter one word either of grief of 
passionate reproach. She was simply stunned. 
Her very lips grew white, and her heart grew cold, 
eold, cold within her! Hammond felt relieved; he 
had rather dreaded a scene. 
“ It was pleasant while It lasted. Lily; but the 
jolllest days come to an end, you know; don’t 
take It to heart, pet. I couldn’t help myself; you 
have such a aisiraciing face. Look up and give 
me a smile before l go. You will like some one 
ten times better than you like me In a month.” 
She shivered. The impulse was to rail on the 
floor, but her woman’s pride conquered, and she 
stood stlU 
“ l hope you will bo bappy, and marry some one 
you love?” she said, in a steady voice. 
*• I hope so, Lily. Think of me after I’m gone, 
aud write 10 mo sometimes.” 
“No,” she said with a quick, sharp pant. 
Would he not go ? The strain was almost more 
than she could bear, 
lie opened his eyes with a surprised air. 
“You won’t write to me? I didn’t expect this, 
Lily; hut ir you won’t, very well. Good-bye, 
give me one kiss rorthe sake of auld lang syne.” 
He stooped his head to hers; by Instinct she 
put him back. 
“Not now," she said; and, unscrupulous as he 
was, he did not dare to take it. He took his hat 
aud went to the door, but turned and looked back 
before he went out. 
She had sunk on the sofa, leaning back against 
the cushions. She was perfectly quiet, only 
she was looking at him. 
An uneasy feeling of remorse came over him ; 
he came across the room again, and took her 
hands. 
“ I'tn awfully sorry If I’ve hurt you, Lily. Say 
you forgive me." 
“ 1 forgive you,” she answered, under her breath. 
Heaven only knew how dear he was to her even 
at that moment. Tnen he went, and she walked 
steadily to the window and watched the last 
glimpse ot his soldierly figure recede out of sight. 
Then she fell forward, face downwards on the 
floor. 
« » • * x « 
Out on the blue sweep of waters the great troop¬ 
ship “ Euphrates” was steaming slowly by. The 
guns saluted her from tho forts. Her yards were 
manned; her decks were crowded with soldiers; 
flags were flying at her mast-head. 
Leave the Portsmouth side; come and have 
a last look at the dear little Island, Hammond,’ 
said Rutherford, with an honest tremble In his 
voice which he struggled to master. 
The two brother ofllcers looked where the beauti¬ 
ful Isle of Wight lay like a glowing emerald in 
tbe sea. 
“ That infernal tune ! why do they always play 
it when we leave?” said Hammond, as “The 
Girl I Left Behind Me" floated out from the band. 
“ Because each man Is thinking of the one he 
has left, I expect,” returned Rutherrord. He was 
thinking of one very tenderly and lovingly, and 
wondering how long It would be before he saw 
her fair face again; for, until he did see It, no 
other face In all the world would have any charm 
for him. “ I beg your pardon, though, one doesn’t 
apply to you! How many have you left lament¬ 
ing, seven?” 
“About that," nodded Hammond, reflectively. 
“ And precious glad I am to be off, I can tell you .' 
Nothing short of India would have cleared me!” 
Rutherford whistled. 
“ I don’t like it, old fellow,” he said, gravely, 
" I believe you have done more mischief l han you 
think with that little Davis girl. 1 saw her yester¬ 
day at the window, and—wcil ; I wouldn’t like to 
be In your shoes I” 
“ What do you mean ?” retorted the other, with 
virtuous indignation. “Confound it, one would 
think you thought me a villain! I haven’t hurt the 
girl. It was only a flirtation.” 
Only ajibtt.aii.Qn! So let It end. so has it ended 
too often in the history of life aud love. Two play¬ 
ers playing a game. The stakes, on one side a wo¬ 
man’s heart; on the other, nothing! The result, 
an unrutiled life for the one; silent sorrow and 
heartache for the other. Arthur - Hammond going 
out in the falling sunlight, heart-whole and care¬ 
less, to the gay brilliancy of Indian life, to nov¬ 
elty, to adventure—perhaps to glory; Lilly lying 
white and unconscious as the “ Euphrates” sinks 
below the horizon line. 
-»»» 
VARIETIES. 
I am sure what a man doeth he thlnketh; not 
so always what he speaketh—Bishop Hall. 
The little baby elephant Is very cunning and 
knowing. A pleasant study for naturalists. 
A MAN froze to death on the hottest day this 
Summer at Carroll, Iowa He got lute a refriger¬ 
ator while drunk, and was locked m. 
The Russians keep flsh perfectly sweet for a long 
time In the hottest of weather by dipping them In 
beeswax, which forms an air-tight covering for 
them. 
W* should be healthier if we admitted more 
sunlight to our homes, as everything requires sun¬ 
shine to prosper. 
What are called good manners are good for 
nothing If they are not based on sincerity. 
In Mexico they eat salt with their oranges, both 
because they prefer the last so seasoned, and be¬ 
cause they are considered to be more wholesome 
with salt. 
The reading-room of the British Museum con¬ 
tains three miles ot bookcases, eight feet high. 
The dome whence the electric light Irradiates the 
vast room Is, next to that or the Pantheon at 
Rome, the largest extant. 
Friendship, —Give me the mend who has the 
same love for me always, who Is ready to “ speak 
up” for me In the midst of enemies, and repeat what 
he considers my virtues as an offset to the fallings 
they may rehearse, and who will hold fast to hts 
faith In my truth and goodness In spite of defama¬ 
tion. Such friends may be scarce, but when found 
are priceless treasures. 
Hducoi-dt states that the Chinese had magnetic 
carriages with which to guide themselves across 
the great plains of Tartary one thousand years 
before the Christian era, on the principle of the 
compass. 
To be always intending to live a new life but 
never to And time to set about it, is as If a man 
should put off eating, and drinking, and sleeping, 
from one day and night to another, till he is starved 
and destroyed.—Tlllotson. 
That acknowledgment ot weakness which we 
make In imploring to be relieved from hunger and 
from temptation la surely wisely put lu our dally 
prayer. Think otlt you who are rich, aud take 
heed how you turn a beggar away.—Thackeray. 
Words are nothing to paint a mother’s love, a 
mother's consolations. A baby’s smile contains 
the dlvlnest essence of all earthly solacement; a 
child’s love soothes without weakening; it de¬ 
mands so much that lu blessing it one Is blessed 
by it unawares.—Ellen W. Olney. 
The work ot buUdlug the Washington monu¬ 
ment has been resumed, after a stoppage ot twen- 
ty-flve years, in the presence of the President and 
Mrs. Hayes, members of the Monumental society 
and other persons. The entire party was taken 
to the top of the monument in the elevator. 
The views from the windows and balconies of 
the Catsklll Mountain House are ot great extent 
and varied beauty, taking lu several States. Tbe 
Hudson River, 3,000 feet below, looks like a brook, 
sunrise from the Mountain House Is a sight long 
to be remembered. 
Women would perhaps and It p rentable If they 
would never trust their first Impressions or intui¬ 
tions. An Ohio woman dreamed that she 3 aw her 
husband in the act of kissing the pretty wire of the 
next-door neighbor, and she awoke and struck him 
across the face and broke bis nose. Acting impul¬ 
sively gets a great many people Into trouble. 
A stout 1s going the rounds of a worthy German 
farmer of Berks county, who had a shrewish wife. 
After many bickerings she recently announced her 
