Litchfield enquirer., 1876-02-03

had butterfy's love of freedom, and who always seemed, amid the restraints of rank, like bird in gilded cage. She was, too, as an individual, very admirable and fascinating, and there was something positively pathetic in her adoration of him. She was woman of such ethereal presence. so delicate, so refined by nature, that she could show her love without los ing one particle of her dignity and wo- manhood
 It seemed strange to me to be looking out into this enchanted garden, this. For est of Ardennes." and to have seen two Rosalinds fit before me, both in love with one Orlando. Sometimes I shut my eyes and asked if were not dreaming there is something very intoxicating in this Italian air; it gets into tue blood. There are so many legends floating in it-therel are Paolo and Francesca di Rimini there are1aH the sweet heroines of the Ocean eron;", Lucrezia Borgias golden hair floats through one's brain; Beatrice Cenci, Vittoria Colonna, deepen and darken the tragic sky. Where shall one began or end with the romance of Italy? ''Al this is a fancy" thought; 'I have known no mo- ble English lady, no princess. no hand some. false,s wandering knight it is an old tale. have been reading, and I shall awake to reality.
 So unused, but opened my eyes and looked out of the window. .--.---
 As did so, l saw Courtnay ana the princess in the immortal attitude of the Cupid and Psyche" sealing their be- trOthal with a sacred kiss. .rtr7 t.s5
 In an hour after, the princess honored me with visit, and told me she had Ede- cided to marry Mir. Courtnay. She deem ed 1t due, perhaps, to her dignity, that I, who had necessarily seen much of their intimacy. should know of their determi- nation.
 There was no reason why she should not marry him, except the will of her royal brother-in-law, and that she was de. termlned to brave. Brave it she did-to the wonder and scandal of all Europe. They took the little duke, my builet-head- cd young friend, away from her, and ed- ucated him for his high position, but I fearshe did not care mnch.a She had not loved his fsther, and the maternal instinct was not much developed in this strange, beAntiful, wild little princess. ala A
 Irolled up my canvas, kissed the hand of my hospitable and distinguished host ess. Ohl how differently from the hand had kissed before i- but she was my qpeenl-and left the Villa Lucca.5
 heard from a distance of the royal rage and of my princess's determination. l read of the marriage in Galignani, and sent my humble gift-my portrait of the favored bridegroom It brought me an autograph letter of thanks, with 6 "ike- ness of kingly crown" on note. paper.
 And then thought-ah had I ever 2 Censed to think ?-of Lady sDiana, Est court. did not dare to write to her what should say if I did? My silent sympathy must float to her through the air, | could not speak it. heard that she and her mother had returned to Eng land, both in ill health. She in ill-health! that splendid physique-that noble and grand development? wandered about in Italy for year, and was about to reg turn to America, when determined to go once again to the lake of Como, and to the Villa Lucca. But at Caddennabia I heard that the Villa Lueca was let to a Russian princess, who did not allow stran- gers to iRtrude; 80 went to the Villa CaFlotta, which so much resembled it in position, and in the arrangements of the grounds, that could almost rehabilitate
 
 shapes who hsd peopled for me the most romantic and poetical of garden soli- tudes.
 As was looking at the Cupid and Psy- che of Canova,I noticed an English group, and recognized lady whom had met at Florence, a friend of the Estcourts. She shook me cordially by the hand, and gave me the latest news of an agreeable Ameri- can and English circle in Florence. She was great talker, so it was not 1mmedi- ately that I was able to ask for Lady Diana.
 ''Oh!" said she, ''have you not heard |? So sad, the prettiest girl in England such an heiress-such q position Lady Diana Estcourt is dead our last letters brought us the news. Her mother thinks she was poisoned by the malaria some- ! where here in Italy, at some villa or other. We'll, these old Italian houses are un- healthful, no doubt; would not like kto pass summer in one of them-would you. MT. Thornton?"
 got away from my garrulous friend. and walked off into the shaded alleys. I thought of the tall girl with the chestnut hair. and the proud, fine carriage of the the beautiful smile, and the faithless character. that had brought her doom. A bitter feeling came over me.
 When returned to my hotel, packet of letters, and a package from my banker, 2 awaited me, opened them, and found a letter from poor Lady Estcourt. Its black borders feebly indicated the broken heart and the gloom which had settled down on the poor mother.
 II send you parcel which poor Diana directed to you just before she died," said the letter. aM @ . opened it; it was her water-color sketch of CourtnaY-hot word of expla. nation. It was mute appeal to me to forgive him. understood lt-it was like the Elaine floating down to Astolat with her speechless guardian; words were not needed. ..