It was then that Natalie remembered the poor black woman, though not a
thought of the object of her own visit thither, crossed her mind. The
woman was silently contemplating the Sea-flower, as if she were an
angel of mercy.

"Where do you live, my good woman?" inquired Natalie.

"One spot am not my home more dan anoder, missy; de wide earth am my
home. But tell me, missy, did ole Phillis hear you straight, or am she
so warped troughout, dat she hot get de right comprehensions?"

"What I have told you, you may rely upon; come here in a day or two
again, and you shall hear farther."

"Bress de Lor'! bress de good Lor', for sending de bright angel!"
shouted the woman, as she ran out of the house, throwing about her long
arms, (now freed from slavery's chains,) and making sundry other uncouth
manifestations of her joy, so characteristic of her race, which caused a
policeman to realize the dignity of his station, by actually opening one
eye, and puffing diligently at the cloud of tobacco smoke which
encircled the other.

A week later, and Natalie received a letter from her mother, in reply to
her account of her visit to the mysterious artist. It ran thus:--

"MY DEAR DAUGHTER,--It was with joy, mingled with a shade of sadness,
that I perused your last. Not that you, my innocent child, could impart
other than pleasure to the meanest of weak mortals, yet it brought
afresh to my mind a subject, which, though it marks one of the happiest
moments of my life, owing to peculiar circumstances,--the memory of my
dear husband being closely associated therewith,--brings to my heart,
also, a shadow of grief. That which I would say has to do with yourself,
my daughter, yet I cannot commission my pen to the revealing of this
long-buried secret. I would tell you with my own lips, of the mystery
which hangs around your birth, for I would seal the tale with a mother's
kiss, looking upon my foster-child for an assurance of love
undiminished. You must now come home to us. I can bear this separation
no longer. The time has come when our dear little Sea-flower, for so
many years the sunshine of our home, shall test the strength of her
affection for those who will ever regard her--a blessing from that
heavenly shore. Say to the author of the Madonna and child, that I would
earnestly wish that he may accompany you home, as he may be informed of
that which so nearly concerns his happiness. Adieu, my daughter, until I
shall see you once more