Litchfield enquirer., 1862-05-01

| But to my bosom known. l Thus, like the spark whose vivid light
 In the dark flint is hid from sight, ItQwells within, alone.
 Mrs Rsmans
 What have you concealed here !? said. tai ing hold of the heavy silk drapery attached t a rosewood cornice, and falling in graceful fold to the floor. -..-@ ,-.rs ' Lillian! Lillian, don't raise ,tv exclaime Mrs. Thornton, springing from the easy-chair. i which she had been reclining with the listles ness of Q dreaming child, and darting to my sid she pressed so heavily aganist the veil that could discern the outlins of picture.frame. @ l "A picturev exclaimed. 70, must see i, for can never rest where there is anything mys terious.'
 But this you can not-must not see.' did not reply, for having been an intimate o the house only week, and this being my frs visit to the library, I did not give utterance t. Perhaps Mrs. Thornton divined my thoug ghts, a after moments silence she said :-
 You are to have access to this libran at al times; every book is at your service, and yo, are at liberty, even, to rummage the drawers ant pgeon-holes of my desk, if your curiosity de mands it but you must not look beneath thu veil that hides this picture :: and her pale lip trembled, her dark, expressive eyes were 6xet upon mine.
 Just one glance said pleadingly; but ehe moved her head negatively, and vent on How can I study with that mystery ever befor. me. and then too shall never sleep soundly again, but dream the iivelong night of this mys tical veil, and that it hides some strange weirG image; or worse, become a somnambulst ana frighten every servant (who happens to feal ghosts) from the house by my midnight explora tions and wanderings.'
 No eye but mine ever looks upon this yelled picture. It is sacred, for it is the only relic have preserved of my past life all that have to remind me of happy days too bright to last of brief period when lfe's pathway was strewn with flowers, and dreamt not that be heath those fair, perfumed flowers. petals, sharp piercing thorns were hidden Her face wa. pale as death, and those deep, dark eyes moist with peary tears.
 l saw that her heart was deeply pained that yelling from memory's fount came painful re my thoughtless words, and l promise never tc raise the veil from this picture, nor pain youl heart by my questions
 An intense smile stole over her pale features and kissing my cheek, she murmured, 'Deal child perhaps some day may lift the veil and tell you all.' Then turning away to hide hel tears, left me standing before the yelled picture
 It was rather curious how l came to be g dweller in the home of Mrs. Thornton Two years before. when but fourteen years old came to New Haven to attend school, and soon after my father leaving home for Europe, where he expected to remain three years, intrusted me to the guardianship of Mir. Howe, an old fir. end o his college days. It was at the house of Mir Howe that I first met Mrs. Thornton. She went but little into society, and my guardian was one of the few families she visited. Hel pale, expressive face attracted me- and then, too there was an misunderstanding in her dark liquid eyes, now 50 sad, and now glowing with ar intense smile, that woke an answering echo in my young heart. She always called me to hel side to ask me about my studies; and when g new book was announced which she thought would be suitable for me to read, she placed it r my hand with my name engraven upon the fly leaf in her own handwriting. Was it strange that my heart warmed toward her; that her com. ing was looked forward to with pleasure, or that often begged for the privilege of visiting her in her quiet, pleasant home. My visits there were not very frequent; and when there we sat in hel boudolr, which was fitted up with artistic taste and having never been admitted to the library
 
 had a pleasant home with Mir. Howe's fam ily; yet it was glad surprise when he said that could board with Mrs. Thornton, if wished and thought that could be happy there Mrs Thornton had proposed it, as Mir. Howe's fami ly anticipated being absent from the city most of the summer; andt the following Saturday removed to her home!
 It was my first holiday in my new home, and I had gone to the library with Mrs. Thornton tc select book, when, OH passing around my eyes fell upon the silk drapery shading the wall ir the further corner, and was about to draw il aside, when her exclamation prevented. had promised not to look beneath the mysterious folds of that silken veil, yet was not satisfied clrosity prompted me to try to catch nasty glimpse when Mrs. Thornton was occupied, but honor forbade.
 Summer and autumn passed, and the long win ter evenings were spent in the cozy, cheerful library and, though cast many furtive glance toward the yelled picture, dared not question Mrs. Thornton, and began to despair of the dawning of that day wben she would relate the history of the picture. It was mild evening in spring, and we were sitting before the grate ir the library; l watching the fast dimning coals that had burned low, while Mrs. Thornton, witt closed eyes, sat near in the easy-chair. My re verie was broken by the tremulons tones of hel voice. saying:-
 Lillian, do you remember your motherf
 Then l answered that, though l turned lea' after leaf of memory's book, yet l could find nc record of mothers love. She died when wal about two years old yet my father had been kind and. as far as possible, filled the place of bott father and mother. My childhood has passed happily ; my father was both friend and instruct or, and my first great grief had been when wa. sent to school and my father sailed for Europe
 Was your mothers name Lillian ? and there was something in the tone of her voice tha startled me.
 Her name was Flora-Flora May. Was i not sweet namer
 'very pretty and the glowing intensity o her eye, as met its gaze, made my heart throl with strange sensation.
 I can't tell where she was buried. Ono when asked my father, he said it was far away and we would go to the place of my birth who was older. Ny father was lonely after moth er'a death that he sold his home in New Yorl and removed to Ohio. I have no recollection c my first home, but shall ask my father ts tax me there before we return to Ohio | And your father loved bis wife?'
 What strange question: said. Yet sh appeared to have spoken without thought. T ne had not loved her, do you think he woul have remained true to her memory fifteen years have headachs, and shall retire. Mir Thornton said, rising; and coming to ny sid sne Kissed me tendsrly, and with hushed ches left the library. s'' I For long time I sat eazinx iuto .h. av;n coals. Were her questions the maeic Eev th. \, had unlocked the casket where the r,emor;es my childhood were storsdf could not tsll . Yet there came dlm remsmbrancs of | t;u | when was playing alone in the garden asd Latrange face paered inta nina as soma nn. .i.~