"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. From your affectionate mother."
Natalie folded the letter, and repeating aloud, "can I ever love my mother less?" she leaned her head upon her hand, and wept.
The day drew near when the Sea-flower, accompanied by Mr. Alboni, (for such was the name of the gentlemanly artist,) and Clarence Delwood, should seek her island home. This was anything but a pleasant anticipation for Winnie, for since her mother's death she had learned to lean upon Natalie, though younger than herself, and had received from her in times of trial, such sweet counsel as would sink into her heart, giving her new strength, making her a wiser and a better being. In the time which Natalie had been in the Santon family, there had been a perceptible change in the character of the beautiful coquettish heiress. Those blemishes which the faithful mother had discovered, upspringing in her daughter's youthful heart, marring her otherwise lovable character, had been erased; not that she had lost in any degree that gay, cheery openness of heart which we love so well to meet,--she was yet the Winnie Santon of days which had known no lowering skies, the singing bird of a June morning,--save that an occasional plaintive note, breathed out upon youth's freshness of life's realities.
It was the last night in which these maidens, Winnie and Natalie, might pour out to each other the fulness of their hearts. The last, did we say, the last? distance would separate them ere another sunset, and ocean would intervene; yet we have said,--the last. Folded in each other's arms, they sat in the pale moonlight, each reading within the other's soul, an appreciation of this holy hour. Holy hours are they indeed, which lead our thoughts far up beyond this mortal sphere, pointing us to other than earth's vanities. Beautiful, yet so unlike, they were; and ah, what is more beautiful than maiden purity? Woman,--she fell, yet her name will ever stand foremost in the ranks of all that is exalting.
"And who will there be to love me, when you are gone? Who will talk with me so gently, and keep my feet from the dangerous paths which surround me?" asked Winnie, as the discordant tones of Mrs. Santon's voice stole in upon their quietude, from an adjoining apartment.
"If there is anything in this beautiful world of ours which can make me sad, it is the parting from those whom I love; yet I know it is but for a little while. Dear Winnie, can you realize how kind our Father is, that he has given us the promise of a home where there will be no more parting,--never a farewell? and he will guide your footsteps; make him your friend, and though all others should forsake you, you will be happy. He will be a better friend to you than ever I have been, and remember, Winnie dear, when I am gone, should sorrow come to you, or bitter trials mark your way, go to our Father for counsel, and he will give you sweet rest."
Thus did the Sea-flower endeavor to leave upon Winnie's heart that which should prepare her for meeting the trials which she but too plainly foresaw would be her lot, from the unmotherly spirit evinced by Mrs. Santon. Blessings on thee, noble girl! would there were more like thee to be found in this sinful world below! But what is a blessing craved by the lips of frail mortal, compared with the seraph blessings showered upon thy gentle head, from her who is looking down upon her child, as thy voice is raised in prayer to the God of this motherless one, that she may find refuge beneath the shadow of his wing.
The last farewell was spoken by poor Winnie, with an aching heart, Mr. Santon had pressed the Sea-flower's hand, with a tear in his eye, as if reluctant to let her go, lest the severing of one of the last ties which bound him to happy days, should be too much for his sorrowing heart,--and she had gone, leaving her impress upon the hearts of all who had met and loved her. Her spirit was the spirit of love, forgiving as she hoped to be forgiven,--her sins, which, had it not been said of man, "not one is perfect," we should have looked upon as of no deeper stains than are of the newly washen lambs, gambolling in fresh pastures of innocence. Even to Mrs. Santon's unpardonable slight, in not giving her a parting salutation, pleading one of her timely headaches as an excuse for her non-appearance at the hour of separation,--the Sea-flower had left for her a kind farewell.