Litchfield enquirer., 1871-05-11
SANCHA.

shall not escape; you shall not fly away like a frightened bird"
 A pause. and then few syliables ol murmured protest followed these words, which, abrupt and foolish as they read here, had been uttered in tones of impas stoned fervor.
 The Marquesa has no control over me. SaDcha. darling, do you not trust me:
 Only let me hear you say .Duarte. l love youI only once."
 It was clearly 8 conversation at which
 was not required to assist. and l hastily
 turned down another walk in the garden,
 I had recognized the voices as those of the
 young Baron Tejal and the pretty Sanchs
 Folcado, humble companion to his sister
 the cold, proud Donna Camilla. widowed
 Marquesa Logrono.
 We resided in western suburb of Lis
 bon called Buenos Ayres. Our house
 stood high. and faced calcada that sloped
 steeply down toward the principal thor
 oughfare between Lisben aud Belem, run.
 ming parallel to the river. From the win
 dow where generally sat at my work. ] could see through tue geraniums and he.
 liotropes on the balcony. down the calcada,
 where the sun gleamed bot on the slip. pery blocks of native marble that stood in lieu of pavement, to large fountain at the corner of the main street. On each side oi this calcada were "palacois, as they were called; large, white. many-windowed hou ses, with great green double-w winged doors, through which the numbering carriages could drive to the foot of the broad marble stairs leading to the dwelling-rooms. In one of the largest of these mansions lived the Baron Tejal. and with him his sister. To the back of the house were magnificent gardens. and those who were on Donna Camilla visiting list were privileged to walk there. or to bring their work to the square marble terrace overlooking the bright Tagus and the Alem Tego Noun. tains.
 Donna Camilla and several of her friends were on the terrace, and in their converse ton was not much interested. Donna Camilla was an olive-complexioned, hard woman, about thirty years of age. whose profound ignorance upon every pos. sible subject was cnly equalled by her pride and superstition. She had set her mind upon her brothers marriage with 8 bride she had chosen for him among the English residents. There was at Lisbon, at that time, Lady Ashurt and her daugh- ter. whom the Marquesa much esteemed. Lady Ashurt was almost as illiterate as Donna Camilla herself but she was also vulgar, which Donna Camilla was not. Lady Ashurt was the widow of a north country manufacturer, who had been knighted for some reason or other. and Donna Camilla was firmly persuaded that her ladyship belonged to the English aris- tocracy. Lady Ashurt was very rich, there was no mistake about that; and Patty, the only child. was heiress to all the wealth. She was short, and fat, and red haired, and we used to call her, rather irreverently, '' the golden ball." This golden ball Don- na Camilla was desirous her brother should secure to himself.
 Tired of the insane talk that was going on, had left the terrace and wandered down shady berceau, when I overheard the fragment of conversation I have re- peated. We liked the Baron; he was an agreeable, courteous. rather sentimental young man, with slight, graceful figure, in Sancha's eyes have no doubt. Sancha was very lovely, one of those faces that re- minds us of peris or houris. or any of those imaginary Eastern beings. Donna Cam illa treated her with favor, keeping her by her side, and introducing her to the com pany that assembled at the house. She was great acquisition, for she sang de- lightfully, and was altogether charming little person. I had before suspected what now I know-that the Baron's affections inclined more to Sancha's bright eyes than toward the golden charms of Miss Ashurst; and I trembled for the poor girl; there was an expression in the Marquesas eyes and lips that showed she could be both cruel and unrelenting. '+t -=
 After that day spent in the, Baron's gar den, I went to stay week at friends quinta, to be present at the vintage; but in the midst of that gay and exciting scene, my mind often reverted 10 pretty little Sancha and that dangerous love- making of Don Duartes. I went to the Marquesa's open-evening the week I re- turned to town, and my eyes immediately sought Sancha, but in vain; she was not present. I moreover noticed that the Bar on was pale, melancholy, distrait. I took an opportunity of inquiring of Donna Camilla after her missing favorite, but was met by drawing in of the thin lips, and dark frown, with an intimation that San cha Folcado was no more to be spoken of in that house; and she added few words that mortified me, but that I did not be- ieve, Sancha was gone; that at any rate was true; driven out in disgrace as could clearly perceive.
 Then came the rainy season; when the water rushed and poured down the calcada, sweeping away the dust and earth that had accumulated about the marble blocks dur ing the summer, and leaving them white end glittering. There was no roaming in the garden: no going out at all. The Marlinmas summer followed, and nature spraug out afresh like Aphrodite rising from the waters; and our walks were re. sumed. The Baron seldom appeared amongst us now; he was evidently in deep dejection; he used to pace up and down
 most solitary paths or lean over the ter race wall looking at the river for hours without speaking. If Donna Camilla had thought to win her brother oyer to he, project by sending Sancha away, she had
 failed completely. | felt impatient with Don Duarte; I could not understand why
 he should go incoming about, instead oi
 boldly following his lady ylove-for I tool
 it for granted that abe he'd been sent home
 to her father-a sort of gentleman farmer
 The site where the cathedral now stands
 was once . Moorish mosque of large size
 this had been converted into Christian church. but had subsequently been shat
 tered by an earthquake. The presenI smaller cathedral was then erected on parI of the ancient site, but behind the moderr building ere remains of massive walls, and |horse.sboe arcieG and courts where 0ranrt