I inquired for the noble vessel in which my
child had sailed; she had not belonged on this coast, and thus were my
earnest inquiries repulsed, day after day, with a heartless--'we can
give you no information.' I travelled from place to place, in hopes to
get some clue to the mystery which hung around my lost ones; but, alas,
that was not to be! I sought in vain. It was then a change came over me;
I hardly knew myself. I concealed my name, and lived a recluse, never
disclosing to any one the history of my sorrows. But I could not live
thus, and I endeavored to divert my mind from this state of frenzy, by
making use of the talent, for which, in my heart of stone, I would not
thank my God for bestowing upon me! And so I have lived, as you find
me,--'the unknown artist.' It is needless to add, the beautiful Madonna,
which was never designed for the rude gaze of public curiosity, is the
likeness of my child; and though I had no other than the impress of her
features upon my heart, to guide my trembling hand, yet I have got a
soul upon that canvas! Sometimes I have fancied that some good angel had
not forgotten me, and had breathed _her_ soul into those pure eyes!"
"And the child?" asked Natalie, in a suppressed breath, scarcely above a
whisper.
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