Weekly Trinity journal., 1879-08-09

no record of n mothers love. She died
when | was two years old, yet my father
had been kind, and as far as possible, fill
ed the place of both father and mother.
My childhood had passed happily; my
father was both friend and instructor, and
my first grief had been visited when l
was sent to school and my father sailed
for Europe.
Was your mothers name Lillian ?"
and there was something in the tone of
her voice that startled me.
" Her name was Flora-Flora May
Was it not a sweet name ."
"Very pretty" and the glowing intensi-
ty of her eye, MS l met its gaze, made my
heart throb with strange sensation
can't tell where she was buried
Once when L asked my father, he said it
was far away, and we would 60 70 the
place of my birth when was older. My
father was so lonely after mothers death
that he sold his home in New York and
removed to Ohio. have no recollection
OF my first home, but shall ask my father
to take me there before returning to
Ohio"
"And your father loved his wife ?"
What strange question:" | said
Yet she appeared to have spoken without
thought. " If he had not loved her do
you think he would have remained true
to her memory fifteen years ?"
" have headache and shall retire.
Mrs. Thornton said, rising and coming
to my side she kissed me tenderly and,
with flushed cheek, left the library.
For long time l sat gazing into the
dying Goals. Were her questions the
magic key that unlocked the casket where
the memor les of my childhood were stor
ed ? could rot tell. Yet there came
a dim remem brance OF a time when |
was playing in the garden and strange
face peered into mine, and some one
clasped me in her arms, kissed me again
and again, while my face was wet with
tears. | never knew whence she came
or whittier she went, and it seemed
strange that that dim memory should
come back then. 1t passed, and a bright
ther would return in few months he
would meet Mrs. Thornton she was SO
gentle and winning he would not fail to
be pleased with her, and | might be per-
mitted to call her mother
My hand was on the knob to open the
door, hut | hesitated. 1t was late, and
the house was still. How easy it would
be to solve the mystery, and Mrs. Thorn
veied picture haunted my waking and
sleeping visions, why should | longer
perplex my mind with conjecture and
crossing the library, | placed the lamp so
picture. Was it the rustl;ng of the silk
or the faint echo of gentle footsteps, that
startled me-? But, listening ntently, |
found all silent within and without. All!
it was the whispering of the still, small
voice, and should heed il D.? She would |
not know it, curiosity whispered; ST. |
raised the veil !; but MS my eye caught a
glimpse of the gilded frame, the drapery
fell from my hand I remembered my
promise never to raise that veil, and ;urn |
ed away, wondering wny so costly a
frame was hidden beneath those dark |
folds.
From that night the mystery of the IL
brary deepened. l had nervo' dread |
of being let alone with that veiled piet~ |
ure, md my imaginative mind pictured a
scene of horror that would .hril every
nerve and freeze my hearts blood.
NV father returned, and when l told !
him how k ind Mrs. Thornton had been,
he called to thnrk her in person, but she
was i'll and could not leave her ROOM
Wondering what could agitate her so, | |
turned to my father, saying she would be
better in a day or two, and he must not
leave the city without seeing her. But
he was firm in his decision to leave the |
next day, and / must accompany him. !
Then | expressed wish to see my moth |
er's grave. He drew me to his side, and |
with his arm encrcling me, and my head
resting on his BOSOM, told me Of my
mother. To him the memory of the past |
was painful, and mingled my tears with !
those OF my father, while again | seem |
to see that strange face peerng into mine.
In Two hours | would leave my kind |
friend. and was going without the mys-
terry of The library being solved, so | ven
tured to hint that, when | came to visit
her hext year, / hoped to see the veiled |
picture unveiled. She did not reply, but
taking my hand led me to the library. -
She would tell me all, she said, for we
might never meet again.
Mrs. Thornton told her story briefly. |
She was the only child of wealthy pa
rents, and married at the age of nineteen.
For three years she was happy in the !
pleasant home to which her husband took |
her then cloud Of midnight darkness |
overshadowed that home. Some one en-
vying her circulated reports injurious to
her reputation, and these coming to her |
husband 5 ears, he being naturally OF |
jea lous disposition. Believed them. The |
wife loved her husband devotedly, and |
being innocent, how could she bear pa
ticntly his taunts and uncalled for survil- |
lance So she proposed returning to her |
parental home, and the husband said go, |
only she must leave her child. She did |
go. And three years after, her parents |
being dead, she went to Europe, and re-
NAMED eight years. Returning to Amer /
inn shn "a mo To " a,u uaunn .uharn In. |