fellow, with a very cunning bad look,' said ho, as he regarded ray work. Lady Diana had given him the expres sion of an angel. Those black eyes swam iv a sort of liquid beatitude. 1 could not say that it was not like him. 1 had once seen that look in his eyes, but it was when ho spoke of the princess. 'You havo made me look as 1 shall look in heaven, Diana,' said he, and for a moment he deserved the compliment, for he bent his magnificent oyes upon her with that expression which 1 have never caught in another face, and smiled a lover's smile.

It occured, one day, to mo, as we sat and painted together, to ask Lady Diana about tha unknown princess whose hospitality sheltered us both. 1 told her of ray imagination of her —a rather digni fied copy of Mary Queen of Scots, a suggestion of Lady Macbeth, something rather dark and terrible. Mystery is a great painter, 1 have observed —one of the oldest of the old masters. She laughed her pretty, hearty, sweet, musical laugh. 'Hear, : Alfred—hear Mr Thornton's descriptionof the princess,' said she. He, too, laughed, but turned his head away as 1 looked. 1 Well, we will let you believe in your too rather contending imagination of the princess until you see her,' said Lady Diana; 'only 1 advise you to cultivate the lady Macbeth theory ;' and again she laughed. So I was all wrong. The princess was probably a large, red-haired blonde, a type 1 hated. 1 remembered she was from the north of Italy—yes, undoubtedlyrashe was the Flora of Tirion, and all that sort of thing. Well, 1 did not want to see her.

But these golden days were numbered. Lady Estcourt got ill. She thought there was malaria at the Villa Lucca. The odor oHhe Olio fragrans, which had been wafted to this lower sphere directly from the gales of paradise, gave her the head ache. When Lady Estcourt got head aches she grew cross. Alfred Courtnay was called away by business, toward Milan, 1 believe. Lady Diana lost her interest in water-colors. Alas! color seemed to be losing its interests in her, lor her lovely cheeks grew pale, and 1 thought her blue eyes wore less brilliant. Yet she was sweeter and more lovable, every day ; and, when she came to bid me good-by, and to say that the lessons were at an end, tears stood in those great, pure, honest eyes. 1 kissed the white hand she held out to me. 1 kissed it, perhaps, two or three times. 'It has been an episode in my life which 1 shall never forget, Mr Thornton,' suid she, kindly. llt has been the romance of my life, Lady Diana,' said 1, firmly ; Tor it was pleasant to let her know, now that wo were to part, probably foreever, how entirely 1 aad worshiped her. The beautiful hand was withdrawn ; the lofty, noble head gave me a salutation, the delicate, red lips gave me a parting smile ;and, as suddemly as she had come into my life, Lady Diana Estcourt went out of it. The Villa Lucca resumed its quiet, and 1 returned to my Corrcggio. The Madonna looked at mo reproachfully. 1 had neglected her; and, as 1 tried to catch the subtle charm which Correggio has infused into all his women, 1 failed. I thought of .a pair of great, blue eyes, of hoavy. chestnut, wavy hair, of lilies arid rjses, and of that spirited turn of the head —in fact, I dreamed of Lady Diana, and sho spoiled my work. I went off and pulled on the lake. I even besought old Luigi, the steward, to let me pruno his trees ; 1 tried various minor industries known to artists, in order to recover my tone. Nature treated me kindly, and the long wilderness of garden ■ ofFrred me an unending opportunity for work. I was a very successful pruner, so Luigi thought, and I did good service? to the plum-trees. I rose early, and worked late. There was a pain at my heart which I could not exterminate readily ; and, in ray close room, where she had sat so recently painting by my side, it was unendurable. One morning, after a sleepless ni^lit, 1 went out early to cut away at my plum trees. The morning was glorious; the flowers were in tiieir richest midsummer luxuriance. I was alone with the sun rise. Adam, in his first morning walk in the garden of Eden, was not more alone than I. I thought of our great progenitor as I mouuttfdjniy ladder to cut olfa branch tlvat was interfering with a fruit-laden vine. ' How lonely he must have been thought I; and, as I thought so, I looked down and saw what Adam saw — 1 saw a woman in a new garden of Eden ! Yes, a beautiful young girl in a lilac frock stood looking atthemornitm-glories. She was so slight and,delicate that, as she stood on tip-toe looking into the airy bells she was scarcly less aerial than they. I thought of my friend Humon's picture of spring or summer —f forget which—of a young girl who stands on one morning glory drinking dew out of another. •Ah !' thought I, 'my friend Luigi has a pretty daughter. He has kept her very much secluded, or perhaps she has been away from home.' I then remembered that, late the evening before, i hud seen a boat stop at the little wharf and, some two or three people disembark. 1 Good morning, my dear,' said I to the young girl ; for she was looking anxiously at my falling branch. 'I will not allow this to fall near you ; but perhaps you j

hfl better stop awny from this neighbor -1; ""-*r a moment ?'

-10-ve the morning glories !' said the girl, as she stepped away while I lowered the already falling bou^h. 'Yes,' said I, gallantly, 'if only that you have admired them ;' and I threw the bough over the trellis which she had just quitted, and decended myself. 'So you are my friend Luigi's little daughter, I suppose. And you came home, last evening, did you,' Well, you are out early, this morning ! She lifted her eyes to my face, and looked at me with an amused expression.

' Perhaps,' said sho, ' I am always an early riser. Did Luigi—l mean my father —toll you to prune these trees ?' ' Yes ; he was doing it laboriously one day, and [ came to help him—your father is getting old.' ' Yes, and very indulgent, said the girl, laughing. She was very pretty, there was no doubt —so delicate, so slender, so young, with the soft, wavy, golden hair seldom seen except in very young children, and gray eyes which had a startled look. Hei" lilac-muslin dress was knotted round the waist with a ribbon, and her long, loose sleoros fell back from her white, slender arms, which had yet to "each their fullest beauty. She was exactly a creature to meet in the early morning, while the dew was on the flowers —she was, at that hour, herself —■ " Abifl w tli all its sweoc -st leavoa yot Voided," ' And you are the American artist who lives in the pavilion, I suppose, are you not?' said Luigi's daughter, after giving mo a good look out of tbe startled eyes, which I noticed had lashes darker than her hair.

' Yea ; and when your good mother brings me my breakfast, this morning, won't you and she come and eat it with mo ? I feel, I assure you, very lonely since Lady Diana Estcourt and her mother left, and I think 1 shall go away soon myself.' 'Did you admire Lady Diana Est coart rl' said my garden-nymph. • She is very beautiful, very superb,' I said, 'in fact, everybody, everything that comes to the Villa Lucca seems to break out with an epidemic of beauty. I hear the princess is rery handsome, only she never cjmes h-jre. Have you ever seen her ?'

< W"ho —I ?' said she, rather absently. ' Oh, yes ! I have seen the princess !' 'la she. then, so beautiful?' said 1, for my charming companion was silent, and 1 liked to hear her talk. She looked more like a G-reuze, every moment.

'Well, people differ about beauty. 1 do not find her very fine,' said Luigi's daughter. The young girl stooped to pick some owors, and then, making some excuse, gacefully flitted down an ally and disap peared. When 1 went into tbo pavilion to my breakfast, Luigi's wife was in a ■ireat flutter. 1 could not imagine what had happened to the good, motherly, calm, Italian peasant who had .attended to my few wants.

•Well. Annuuziata.' said 1, 'where is your pretty daughter ? 1 have made her acquaintance, this morning, and have asked her to breakfast with you and me. Will you bnt!i caino ?' 'Ah, holy saints!' said Annunziata; ' the signor little knows what he has done ! That was madarne the princess herself, and here she comes !'

At this moment, my pretty Grcuze, my Hanvin, my Spring personified, stopped laughingly into the pavilion, accompanied by a boy of about six years, and a tall and very dignified lady. ' Ah, Mr Thornton, forgive me. I did not intend to mystify, still less to frighten you. Forget, I beg of you, that lam the princess, a title that frightens everybody, and is a heavy one to wear. Call me here —it is my pleasure —Madame Louise, and only use the etiquette which always conies naturally to every well-bred man of the world when ho talks to a lady. My friend here, Madame Sermoneta, will do rae the justice to say that I am always frank, and mean what I say.'

'The princess is to bo obeyed in whatever she may command,' s;iid the lady-in-waiting, making a dcop obeisance. There were two alternatives opon to me : one was to jump inlo the lake and sink or swim; the other wa.3 to make a bow and an apology, and blush, it through. L chose the latter alternative It was not vay fault if a princess close to dress like a gardener's daughter, arid to come out alone, at i< in the morning, into her garden, although I confess I felt; like a fool when 1 remembered my undue familiarity. It never chanced to me to see the princess again alone —Madame Sermaueta was always with her. This, however, put slight restraint on the cordiality ;md swt'ulin'ss ofhermanuers and conversation. Who chatted about the politics of Europe, as another woman would have talked about- the fashions. She know about art, nnd books, nnd music, and was altogether the queerest mixture of courtly elegance and bizarre love of freedom, an I almost Bohemianism, thut I ever met. She was n European celebrity in this respect, as i afterwards found out. She, too, had the great gift which Lady Diana had had-she could put a mau at hh ease at once. There was no condescending affability—there was a sincere sympathy. I soon found that Alfred Oourtnay was right—she was one of the most beautiful women in Eurofe. This appearance of extreme youth waa but another charm ; 'although she had really only reached her &3d year.

She took much interest in my copy of Correggio, and pave me an order for a copy of the Modanna della Scodella, at Parma, to be done at my leisure. All this followed our first breakfast in the pavilion, through the month which succeeded Lady Diana's departure. Perhaps I owed something to the friendship which immediately sprang up between me and the young duke, the heir to so many possibilities. As he is a very great personage now, I hesitate to remember that he was a bullet-headed little boy, not at all like his beautiful mother, and quite full of the dispositions of a spoiled child ; but I liked a big play fellow, and I liked him. Twice in the course of our acquaintance did I fiih him out of the lake, thus altering, perhaps, the whole face of European politics. He disported himself in my pain ting-room to his infinite satisfaction, and like most spoiled children, obeyed me better than he did any of the people wkom he was bound to obey. Once the princess came to my painting room, and, seating Madame Sermoneta in an alcove, led the conversation toward Lady Diana. 1 Lady Diana told me that you pictured me to yourself as Mary Queen of Scots, and perhaps as Lady Macbeth,' said she, laughing. 1 Yes,' said I, ' hero is a sketch which. I made of your probable highness ;' and I showed her one of ray careless sketches. It was rather as llistori looked then (20 yeurs ago, now), and as I had sesn her at the theatre in Florence. She recognized the resemblance to the famous traged ienne, and laughed even more heartily. Turning over the leaves of my book, she came on the first sketches I had made of the beautiful face of Courtnay. ' Alfred Courtnay !' said she, and her face was covered with the deepest, most intense blush. ' Yes,' said I, ' and here is the finished portrait. Lady Diaua and I painted Courtnay at the same time ; he said he wanted to save the expense of a model; Lady Diana, as was natural, regarding their relations, gave him a much better expression, than I did. I was not fortunate in the expression ! but what do you think of the portrait.' I had busied myself turning the picture round from the wall, and when I again looked at the princess she was pale. 'It was very good—very like him,' said she, coldly ; ' but what do you mean by ' their relations ?' 1 Only that they are betrothed, I sup pose, from their manner ,and from what Lady Estcourt told me.' Hero the little duke managed to pull down one of my easels, and to make a great noise. The princess roused Madame Sermoneta, and, taking her son by the hand, bade mo ' Good-morning,' and re tired. I did not see her arjain for two days, during which time I reflected deeply on what I had obscrvod. Courtnny's change of manner when he spoke of the princess had impressod me at the time, but was it possible that a m-m who pretended to love Diana Estcourt could lovcanother woman ? I could believe it of Courtnay more than any man I had ever seen, for there was a suhtle falseness behind his curious eyes ; I looked at my picture, yes ! I had painted it there without knowing it. 1 was think ing this over and summing up all I knew of him, and working at the sarno time at my copy, when I as^ain heard his sweet voice and English accent pronouncing my name. He caina in, handsome as the morning, fresh, fascinating and manly, disarming criticism. After the usual salutations and the natural inquiries for Lidy Diana, Court nay said, in an off-hand manner : — 'By the way, Thornton, my friend the princess says that you misunderstood the relations of L'ldy Diana and myself; you supposed us betrothed ; it was nothing, I assuro you, but a cousinly flirtation ; Diana has forgotten me before this, and, indeed, I doubt if she ever thought much of mo. Her mother did me the honor to desire an alliance, I believe, because I be long to a branch of her family, in which thcro is a title pending, but Diana—no, she is a queer girl ; I think she never liked me very deeply ;' and the beautiful, changeful eyes took on another cloud, such as I had seen sail over them before.

I had nothing to say ; I was the merest stranger and waif in this society, with which accident had mixed mo. Nor was I astonished, as the tact became patent before me, that Courtnay and the princess were going through the same ' Comedy of Errors' which I had seen played before. He was one of those magentic people born to be loved by women, born to be spoiled by them, born to deceive and make many of thorn unhappy, tie seemed thoroughly in love with the princess, It would have been hard for any man not to have loved the gay little creature, who had a butter fly's love of freedom, and" who always seemed, amid the restraints of rank, like a bird in a gilded cage. She was, too. as an individual, very admirable and fascinat ing, and there was something positively pathetic ill her adoration of him. She was a woman of such ethereal presence, so delicate, so refined by nature, that she could show her love without losing one particle of her dignity and womanhood.

It seemed strange to me to be looking out into this enchanted garden, this, 'Forest of Ardennes,' and to have seen two liosalinds flit before me, both in love with one Orlando. Sometimes I shut my eyes and asked if I were not dreaming: there is something very intoxicating in

this Italian air; il gets into the blood. There are so many legends floating in it there are Paolo and Francesca di Rimini : there are all the sweet heroines of the 'Decameron;' Lucrezia Borgia s golden hair floats through one's brain ; Bertrice Cenci, Vittoria Colonna, deepen and darken the tragic sky. Where shall one begin or end with the romance of Italy? 'All this is a fancy,'! thought; ' I have known no noble English lady, no princess, no handsome, false, wandering knight; it is an old tale I have been read ing, and I shall awake to reality.' So I mused, but opened my eyes and looked out of the window. As I did so, I saw Courtnay and the princess in the immortal attitude of the 1 Cupid and Psyche,' sealing their be trothal with a sacred kiss. In an hour after, the princess honored me with a visit, and told me she had decided to marry Mr Courtnay. She deemed it due, perhaps, to her dignity, that I, who had necessarily seen much of their intimacy, should know of their determination.

There was no reason why she should not marry him, except the will of her royal brother-in-law, and that she was determi ned to brave. J3rave it she did—to the wonder and scandal of all Europe. They took the little duke, my bullet-headed young friend, away from her, and educated him for his high position, but I fear she did not care much. She had not loved his father, and the maternal instinct was not much developed in this strange, beautiful, wild little princess. I rolled up my canvas, kissed the hand of my hospitable and distinguished hostess. Oh ! how differently from ths hand I had kissea before !—but she was my queen ! — and left the Villa Lucca,

I heard from a distance of the royal rage and of my princess's determination. I read of the marriage in Galignani, and I sent my humble gifc—my portrait of the favored bridegroom. It brought me an autograph letter of thanks, with a ' like ness of a kingly crown' on note-paper.

And then I thought—ah! had I ever ceased to think? —of Lady Diana Est court ? I did not dare to write to her; what should I say if I did ? My silent sympathy must float to her through the air, 1 ceuld not speak it 1 heard that she and her mother had returned to England, both in ill-health. She in ill-nealth ! — that splendid physique -that noble ana grand development; ? I wandered about in Italy for a year, and was about to return to America, when I determined to go once again to the lake of Como, and to the Villa Lucca. But at Caddennabia I heard that the Villa Lucca was let to a Russian princess, who did not allow strangers to intrude, so I went to the Villa Carlotta, which so much resembled it in position, and in the arrangements of the grounds, that I could almost rehabilitate old memories, and see again the fair shapes who had peopled for me the m©st romantic and poetical of garden solitudes.

As I was looking at the Cupid and Psyche of Canova, 1 noticed an English group, and recognized a lady whom I 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 American and English circle in Florence. She was a great talker, so it was not im mediately 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 a position ! Lady Diana Estcourt is dead ! our last letters brought us the news. Her mother thinks she was poisoned by tho malaria somewhere here in Italy, at some villa or other. Well, these old Italian houses are unhealthful, no doubt; I would not like to pass a summer in one of them —would you, Mr Thornton ?'

I KOt 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 head. I thought of the generous, cheerful and brave heart. And then I thought of the black eyes and the beautiful smile, and the faithless character, that had brought her he? doom. A oitter feeling came over me.

When I returned to my hotel, a packet of letters, and c, package from my banker, awaited me. I opened them, and found a letter from poor Lady Estcourt. Its bJack borders feebly indicated the broken heart and the gloom which had settled down on the poor mother.

* 1 send jou a parcel which poor Diana directed to you just before she died,' said the letter.

l opened it; it was her water-color sketch ot Courtnay— not a word of explana tion. It was a mute appeal to me to forgive him. I understood it—it was like the Elaine floating down to Astolat with her speechless guardian ; words were not needed.

'Doctor,' said a lady to her physician, 'dour you think the small bouaets that th<. ladie3 wear now-a-days havo a tendency to produce congestion of the bram V 'jN ro, madam ? where you see ouo of those bonnetn there is juo brain to cod jest.'

A Yankee describing an opponent whose person was extremely thin, says: 'I will tell you what, sir—that man don'c amouut to a sum in aritumetic ; cast him up and there's nothing to carry.'

A coloured preacher, in translating to his hearers the sentence, -The harvest is over the aeasou is eaded, and thy soul ia not saved,' put it, 'JDe com has been cribbed, dere ain't any more work, and de debbil ia still fooiin' wid dia community, 1

Secret Murdering in India.

The ' Bombay Gazette of the 22nd Vi contains the disclosure of an extraordS system of wholesale poisoning j^? Central Provinces of India, which wai; that date being investigated at Nursi^' poor, where a professional poisoner«! being charged with murder. By his o*f • confession he had been guilty of sixtZ murders within the last four yea?? The man is a Mohometan of the Jw class. Kahdur by name, a native of 2 town of Soonvale, in the Zillalw Eampooree, within the native terrifo! of Oojeen, not far from Indore. KaU? is a well-to-do man, about forty ye ars ! age, and his father possesses yl property in Soonvale. Eleven years anl a quarter of his life have been pasy in prison for comparatively Jl offences. He was eventually released! June, 1872, and be seemed then to har; had enough of gaol life, for he success!* kept himself clear of any more m\- charges as had long established him j the ranks of ' old offenders.' But almost immediately after Kahdur's liberation ij 1872, there began a series of crimes whicj baffled the police of both the Cental Provinces and Berar till about April, 18/1 when they ceased. Carts and bullocfa started on journeys from Khund^ i>Tursingpoor, Bholanpoor, Nandoora, and other places, but never returned. 3f o » than once the dead body of the misgiw driver was found by the side of a lonelt path in the jungle, but so far advanced it decomposition as to be totally unrecognij. able ; and tor some time it was impossible to say that the persons whose bodies wen so found had not died from natural cause!, These mysterious occurrencess, after ceasing for a year, began again early ]$ year. Complaint affcer complaint m' made of a man with his cart and bullocks ha ring started on a journey and nerei been heard of again. But nothing could be learned to explain why they had not reached their destination. At length, it was noticed that Kahdur Borah was % name given by various parties as that of • the person who had hired a cart which had disappeared; and this clue being following out, a circular was issued, not many weeks ago, for the arrest of j man answering to the name and descrip. tion of Kahdur Borah, Before long tin man wanted was arrested at Kamptee,s!il readily rpco!?ni«cd by the relatives of mots than oue carter whom he had takenawayoi anillfatedjourney. Itdeservestobenoticed that, although such ajnortorious character, his arrest took place under the most ordinary and commonplace circumstances, for he was in the custody of the policeoa a charge of some trifling character when the terms of the Inspector-General's circular led to his being suspected as the very man wanted. At the time of his arrest he had arsenic on his person. The important part of the story now began to come out. When the Borah saw that his conviction was clear beyond all hope of escape, be made a clear breast of Wj[ crimes, and informed upon two menashij accomplices. Since then he has been rendering the police much assistance, even to the length of pointing out where the bodies of his victims lie buried. He, io the first instance, made a formal con fession according to which he took toffiij systematic poisoningias a means of lireli-' hood as soon as he came out of gaol in 1872, and the reason of his suspending operations in 1874 was, according to his= confassion that he then paid another p4 lucky visit to Bombay, and so qnicklyl committed himself that he had to appeal : before the Criminal Sessions, and m compellnd to prolong his stay therefc beyond the time that he intended. lah durs plan of operation was to go to i town and give out that he wanted a respectable-looking cart to take him ton distant place to see his relatives or OB business of some kind. He always selected a good cart and good bullocH the property of a- man of a better class, who was likely to carry money aboni with him ; and he made the fatal mistake, of giving his correct name at every placa t_ he went to. Having started on his pw-1 tended journey of twenty, thirty, orerea fifty miles, he cLose some quiet part of the read to administer arsenic to to■ unsuspecting companion, the driver. This, if the latter was a Mahometan, to" would have no dillicully in doing, astm. two would probably take their evening meal together ; and if the driver was* . Hindoo, the murderer either offered him some poisoned sweet-meat, or watchedß " opportunity to springle arsenic over the floor the poor man was about to make into chuppatties. The willian then composedly: looked on while his victim first complain6,l'( of pain, then became too ill to drivehi cart, and finally lay down on the roadsids p and died in agony. He then stripped*: body of whatever valuables there were upon it, and either threw it down intij> jungle or buried it, and taking the dead man's place upon the cart drove to soffl' town or village where he was notlikely" arouse suspicion, and disposed of the tafl: out for, Say, fifty or sixty rupees. Inti» confession, Kabdur relates the particular of thirteen murders he thus committed ij in Ba.rar and the Central provinces, a* i several of these are cases that havebaP the police for two or three years past- I -The daughters of a iaundress are g10"^!, pale for want of exercise, and the m<*r says they fade because they will not wasi.

EVENING STAR «ttppt,T?,MT?,TVT OCTOBER 21, 1876,

Printed and tubHshed by tho Propiistor, Ht« . Bbbtt. of Parneil, athis (Jeueral Steam Vim Office. Wymlkam-stieet, in the City of AUW"^ Jfew Zealand : - fcatiyi^y, October 3;, J§|&