Litchfield enquirer., 1862-08-14
The Mystery of the Library,
No searching eye can pierce the veil That OCT my secret life is thrown: No outward signs reveal it's tale,
 Ruf fo my hosom known

 II No outward signs reveal it's tale, But to my bosom known.
 Thus like the spark whose vivid light
 In the dark flint is hid from sight,
 It dwells within, alone. Mrs. Hemans.
 What have you concealed here p I said, talk. ing hold of the heavy silk drapery attached to a rose wood cornice, and falling in graceful folds to the floor. a- . .a
 Lillian! Lillian, don't raise itr exclaimed Mrs. Thornton, springing from the easy chair in which she had been reclining with the istlessness of dreaming child, and darting to my side she pressed so heavily against the veil that could discern the outline of picture frame. "A picturep exclaimed. %, must see it, for can never rest where there is anything mys. terious.'
 1 But this you cannot-must not see.' did not reply, for having been an inmate of the house only week, and this being my first visit to the library, could not give utterance to the thoughts which rushed through my mind.- Perhaps Mrs. Thornton divined my thoughts as after a moments silence she said: ou olC 1o u1fO 0SSCoo to thlS lbialy dt times; every book is at your service, and you are at liberty, even, to rummage the drawers and pigeon holes of my desk, if your curiosity de- mands it but you must not look beneath the veil that hides this picture j; and her pale lius trembled, her dark, expressive eyes were fixed upon mine.
 Just one glanee,' I said pleadingly; but she moved her head negatively, and went on: How can study with that mystery ever before me, and then too, shall never sleep soundly again, but, deam the livelong night ofthis mystical veil, and thatit hides some strange, weired image or worse, become somnambulist and frighten eve ry servant, who happens to fear ghosts, from the house by my midnight explorations and wander ings.'
 No eye but mine ever looks upon this yelled picture. It is sacred for it is the only relic I have preserved of my past life all that I have to remind me of happy days too bright to last :; of a brief period when life's pathway was strewn with flowers, and I dreamed not that beneath those fair, perfumed fowers petals, sharp, pierc- ing thorns were hidden Her face was pale as death, and those deep, dark eyes, moist with pearly tears.
 | l saw that her heart was deeply psined that swelling from memory's fount came painful re. membrance, and truly penitent, I sad-' For give my thoughtless words, and promise never to raise the veil from this picture, nor pain your heart by my questions
 An intense smile stole over her pale features and kissing my cheek she murmured-' Dear child perhaps some day may lift the veil and tell you aT.' Then turning away ts hide her tears, left me standing before the yelled picture
 It was rather curious how came to be dwell Ter in the home of Mrs. Thornton. Two years ago, when but fourteen years old, came to New Haven to attend school, and after my father leaving home for Europe, where he expected te remain three years, intrusted me to the guardian ship of Mir. Howe, an old friend of his college days. It was at the house of Mir. Howe that first met Mrs. Thornton. She went but little in to society, and my guardian's was one of the few families she visited. Her pale, expressive fac, attracted me, and then too, there was an indefin able something in her dark, liquid eyes, now SC sad, and now glowing with an intense smile, tha awoke an answering echo in my heart. She al ways called me to her side to ask me about m, studies and when new book was announced which she thought would be suitable for me t read, she placed it in my hand with my name en grayen upon the fly leaf in her own hand writing Was it strange that my heart warmed toward her and that her coming was looked forward to witl pleasure, or that often begged to visit her il her quiet pleasant home. My visits there wer, not very frequent; and when we sat in her bou doir. which was fitted up with artistic taste, an, having never been admitted to the library, hae never seen the yelled picture.
 had pleasant home with Mrs. Howe's fami ly; yet it was glad surprise when he said could board with Mrs. Thornton, if wished . and thought could be happy there. Mrs Thornton had proposed it, as Mr. Howe's famil, anticipated being absent from the city most o the summer, and the following Saturday I re moved to hSr nome.
 It was my first holiday in my new home, an, l had gone to the library with Mrs. Thornton t, select book, when on passing around, my eye fell upon the silk drapery shading the walls il , the furtherest corner, and was about to draw i asiee, when her exclamation prevented hat promised not to look beneath the mysteriou folds of that siken veil, yet was not satisfied curiosity prompted me to try to catch glimps, when Mrs. Thornton was occupied, but homo ; forbade.
 : Summer and autumn passed, and the lon, winter evenings were passed in the cozy, cheer : tul library and though cast many furtiv glance toward the yelled picture, I dared no question Mir. Thornton, and began to despair o the dawning of that day when she would relat the history of the picture. It was mild eve ming in spring, and we were sitting before tn grate in the library; watching the fast dim ming coals that had burnt low, while Mrs. Thorn ton with closed eyes sat near, in the easy chai, My reverie was broken by the tremulous tones her voice, saying:
 Lillian, do you remember your mother?
 Then I answered that though turned lea after leaf of memory's book, yet could find n record of mothers love. She died when was about two years old, yet my father had bee . kind, and as far as possible. filled thd place c