Litchfield enquirer., 1874-07-09

The mansion had been built over a
 double tier of deep excavations, the lower
 tier vaulted and used as wine-cellars. A large iron trap-door, opening over flight
 of stone steps. led into these vaults; but as this trap was not in that part of tho
 cellarage which lay under the bedroom of Madam Dayenant, but opened under the
 turret of the northeast corner, fifty yards
 distant, 1t was long before we reached it In the course of our excavations.
 l Each of the four upper cellars was about ten feet in depth and fifty feet square, separated from it's neighbor by brick party wall, with an iron door. Full four days labor were consumed in searching and clearing three of these. The Iaborers
 began to grow weary and discouraged, ,and
 on the fifth day had only three left, who consented for double pay to aid me in the
 work. The fourth cellar, in winch was the iron trap leading down into the vaults,
 was filled up by the falling of She observ- atory, in which had been the amateur work-room, the laboratory. and private library of MT. Davenant. The removal of the relics of these costly luxuries was a tedious and laborious task, and it was on- ly on the Monday following, elght days after the beginning of our search, that we succeeded i'll lifting and cutting away the ruins from the entrance of the vaults. | raked away the ashes with my hands from the paddock of the trap, and seized an axe to break open the ring. A sensa- tion of terror smote through me when I saw the remnant of key in the paddock and the catch slipped from the bolt. The trap had been opened.
 | Had Madam Davenant escaped ont of the burning house she would have been found. It was therefore certain that she had perished in the..house. But if so, the bones and charred remnants of human form ought to have been discovered among | the ruins.
 I That she had risen from her bed at the first alarm and had gone into another part of the building was then equally certain, and she could only take refuge in the vault. The key of the wine-cellar was al- ways in her possession. No person ever unlocked or raised the trap-door but Mir. Davenant or his wife. Although the hinges was corroded with the heat, the trap yielded easily to my hand; and as I l raised it, a close, mouldy. putrescent 1 smell issued from the subterranean reces- ses. Terrified by my visible agitation, my assistants hesitated to follow as de- sended the steps. In the sudden change from light to dark I could see nothing. Candles were sent for, and, provided with these, a number of persons volunteered, | though the dread of what they might be- hold made them silent, and we passed on under the damp arches hesitating and afraid. At the entrance of the second ! vault we found package of old letters IxyIp &hn Enko | 4I,1 fourth cellar, we saw a white object against the opposite wall. It was the rigid, nearly upright corpse of Madam Davenant, seated on treasure-chest fac ing the entrance of the vault, and dressed in dishabille costume such as she wore usually in her chamber. In her haste. searching in the chest for.valuable papers, the unfortunate lady had thrown others that impeded her search here and there over the floor of the vault.
 That the heat of the burning house had not penetrated her tomb we were satisfied hy tha cnnlness of the air. the appearance of the dress. and the natural, death-like hue of the corpse. In one hand was n lutber tightly grasped, and crushed in the hollow palm. That she had been dead many days was evident from the condition of the body which had begun to show marks of decomposition, and exhaled a putrescent odor. Endowed by nature with good constitution, abstemious as she was, it could not have been hunger that deprived her of life; cases and casks of wine. and cheeses stored in the second end third vaults, made it impossible that she had failed through want of susten- ance.
 Madam Davenant had died suddenly in a sitting posture, and, beyond doubt, by tho effects of some powerful moral inn precision. A lamp, burned out, stood up- on block Gt the side of the treasure chest. Was it not probable that Madam Davenant had passed during the night from her room into the wine-cellar, un- der the influence of some great emotion, before the breaking out of the fre-had become absorbed in the perusal of letters and papers filled, perhaps, with memori- als of her past life? The trap-door, mean while, had fallen down unperceived; the fire broke out, inaudible to her in her ab- straction under the heavy stone arches of the vault; that when she attempted to es- cape she found the trap closed by the fal- len beams. She had then returned and seated herself upon the chest, leaning back. Death came suddenly upon her in
 
 paper which she grasped in her dying and verdict of the corcner's jury-of which I was one-over the body of Mad am Julia Saltone Davenant.
 The remains of the decedent were that day inferred in the village church-yard with the solemn services of the Episcopal Church, of which she had been a com municant. No tears fell upon her grave, but the incidents of her death left deep and saddening impression upon the minds of the witnesses. Deacon Satterlee and his daughter stood at the graves head as the coffin was lowered, and many signifi- cant glances were directed toward the fair-haired country maid, the reputed and real rival of the late Madam Davenant.
 As in duty bound, took. possession of the papers found in the vault, Among these were several letters, worn with ire. quent unfolding. They were from the former husband of Madam Davenant to ''his darling Julia" Their language gloWed with vivid descriptions of the pas sion that consumed his ardent nature dur ing absence from his ssadorable wife" They were evidently the work of an &C., complished writer and man of society, en- amored beyond the tempered medium of happiness. These I inclosed again, and sealed for delivery to the survivor The paper which was taken from the hands of the deceased was the last of this series of letters-one written by William SaItone to his Julia on the day of his supposed voluntary death; few lines of passionate farewell, commenting her ''to the care of angels" and himself ssto the pardon of a merciful God.
 Struck with the singular aptness of her death to the passion of grief which this letter might have inspired, I pondered long and deeply upon all the ciEcumstan- ces and connections of events investing the melancholy history of Madam Day enant. Her death seemed to have become q moral necessity for the completion of a life so wfetched. That Dayenant hated her I had begun already to surmise, more from the tone of her conversation, which was so guarded, and from the laws of na- ture. than from any positive evidence. He was creature of vhim and preiudice