Litchfield enquirer., 1874-07-09

scribable pale brown of the walls made st
 rich ground work for the foliage of living
 green which clang to it or foated around
 I had passed the night at the village
 tavern and rode over at sunrise. The inn-
 keeper, my qnerulous and venerable
 friend, Deacon Satterlee, ponre1 ont n
 muddy stream of talk touching the yilla
 the absence of ''Squir" Davenant Ill Elfs
 rope; Madam Davenant, her charities. her pride, her quarrels with a Swiss house.
 keeper; the jealousy of the neighbor farm
 CTS and their people, who leased and annoy
 ed the ''villa folks;' Madam Davenant's
 habits; she was late sleeper; ate little or
 nothing; read a great deal; played little
 on the guitar; sang gloriOusly when no
 one was near; was often ''sick'' or seemed
 to be so, aild would shut herself weeks
 together in her chamber; how many
 ''helps' she employed, and how they
 ''wasted and stole every thingr' My
 pity and sympathy were excited, and the
 next morning, when I met the lady at her
 breakfast-table, grave, elegant, and over- towering as usual, I could not avoid ex-
 pressing some interest in her lonely sit uation, and advised her to leave Saltone
 and live in the city till Mr. Davenant should return.
 She received my advice with courte- Ous acknowledgement, and handed mo in
 reply letter from her husband, in which
 his return was fixed for next spring.
 Madam Davenant conversed with seeming freedom. She spoke of her relation with
 her husband; which, she said, had not
 been productive of happiness for either
 'The were both exclusive, both rich, and predisposed to melancholly." "Mr.s Davenant occupied himself of late in sci- entific pursuits, and practiced chemistrv and mechanics as recreation" She smiled when she informed me that he had mended the great Dutch clock that stood in her bedroom.
 My husband.' she said, 'sif poor man, would have been a famous mecLan- ic. You would not believe how ingenious he is; and with admirable taste in all things. He paints we'll; many of those l pictures are his. I have guitar of his making. He is good farmer, gardiner. architect; in short, there is nothing he can not do. What Q pity" she added, signing, ''that Davenant had not been mechanic, and married some poor, uned- ucated girl, who would worship his gen. | jus, and cry sOh Heavens r to every act of his. We were not suited to each other: we had both of us outlived the possibility of enjoyment.
 "At your years P
 ''Yes. I had exhausted life at thirty. l married young man for the sake of a new excitement. By stronge accident we: found that we were alike; and both drew blanks. Neither is able to give happiness to the other. Had MT. Dave nant been poor and ignorant we should have made a paradise of Saltone." ''But his taste, his genius?"
 GA natural gift sir. The greatest geni- uses i'll art and science are almost all poor and ignorant at first in that lias their happiness and their success"
 "l had imagined that your marriage was love affair"
 "Oh! you thought so because was 90 mnch older than he-N Nothing of the kind. I assure you. Had it been so I might he happy in being Jealoun. NO; Dayehant IS in love with with a poor girl-Deacon Satterlee's daughter"
 ''Bessy Satterlee?.'
 s"The same"
 s'She is pretty, but coarse"
 "Not at all coarse; you mistake sim plicity for coarseness. wish Davenant could marry her, but see no means of ar- ranging a separation; we never quarrel that IS the misfortune. would do much to glve Davenant his freedom but our laws are ridiculously framed. Perhaps you could suggest?"
 "You are beautiful" said I, looking once into the eyes of Madam Davenant, ''and still young. Could you not arrange some scandal?'' She smiled. Impossible. No man Besides, l will not sacrifice the honor of I11nVy for Ivy I>ryo IT dure any thing better than scandal"
 While we conversed over our coffee the Dutch clock above stars in Madam Day. enant's bedroom chimed the hour of ten, and played a delicious air-the music, the odor of the flowers and hay fields, waited in by the morning breeze, the songs of innumerable birds, the glow of pictured beauty from the walls of the apartment, and the stlr of jasmine vines that looked in at the windows, contrasted, all of these, with the strangeness of the melancholy conversation, left a weird impression up on my imagination.
 At twelve that day-it was hot, still noon of August rode over to the vil- lage, having some business to arrange for Madam Davenant. This occupied the rest of the day, and, after the customary evening chat with Deacon Satterlee, re- tired early to my bedroom in the tavern. The heat of the summer night and restless fancy kept me awake. At two in the morning, after short, uneasy slum- Der, I rose and went to window that looked eastward i'll the directlon of the villa. The pale, calm features of the beautiful Madam Davenant rose before me, and seemed to see the long vista of miseries that awaited her course on the 1axxrHhfl1 of 1e enant himself; the singular fate that had heaped upon him all possible wretched- ness in the guise of brilliant fortune and a proud alliance. Was he merely indif- ferent to his wife, or did stronger feel ing interpose between him and the Wo- man who looked down upon him, pitying and disappointed, from the superior height of her own supreme misery?
 While was indulging these painful speculations few large drops of rain, pattering on the roof, accompanied. with puff of cool air, signaled the beginning of storm. leaned out of the attic win dow and saw black arch of cloud which had already reached the zenith, and was rushing down upon the eastern half of the sky. A moment more, and the hea- vens were lighted with binding flash. followed by intense darkness, a burst of thunder, and torrents Of rain. The rain fell without abatement, the lightning and thunder were almost continuous, wind rushed wildly over the forest, tearing of the leaves. and whirling before it nm gied tempest of driving rain and flying ruins of the trees.
 In the midst of this conflict of the ele- ments was startled by gleam of ruddy light above the foliage of the wood in the direction of the villa. watched it vague ly. The light grew larger and shot up ward, until at length a tongue of flame | and q whirl of lurid smoke convinced me that either the villa itself or the large barns in it's vicinity were on fire. hnr. ried on my clothes, wakened the inn keep CT, and sent of the stable-boy, who slept in the loft above me, to ring the church bell then went to the stable and sail- dled my horse. Before I could put foot in the stirrup the bell had. been tooling