altar--a bride. She
had given her hand to a noble-hearted American gentleman, upon whom I
looked as being worthy of my darling's choice; and as she placed one
hand within his, she took the hand of her father with the other, and
whispered,--'you now give your daughter to another, yet it shall only
serve to bind me still closer to my father.' I was happy then; and when
two years later, I pressed my daughter to my heart, and bade her adieu,
for the first time, without a thought that it might be the last, I was
happy; and when I pressed a kiss on the cheek of her infant child, and
grasped the hand of my noble son, her husband, I was happy; for so full
was my cup of joy, that I had forgotten the drop of bitterness which I
had tasted therefrom. But, alas! it was not so full to overflowing that
there was not room for the draught that was to be my portion. They
sailed for America, to visit his home, when, after the settlement of his
estate in this Western world, they would return to make glad their
father's home; that day has not yet come! A year elapsed, and I had no
tidings of them, yet I would not permit the thought to dwell with me
that I should never hear from them more, and another year passed on
before the despair entered my soul, which has been to me a burning flame
ever since. I gave my possessions to the keeping of another, and left my
native Italy, to cross the deep, if I might learn of the fate of my
children. I went to the place he had told me was his home, but I met
with only strangers there. 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 othe