HAPTER XIII.

_AS_ for Edith, all doubts and questionings as to her baby's fate were
merged into a settled conviction that it was alive, and that her mother
knew where it was to be found. From her mother's pity and humanity she
had nothing to hope for the child. It had been cruelly cast adrift,
pushed out to die; by what means was cared not, so that it died and left
no trace.

The face of Mrs. Bray had, in the single glance Edith obtained of it,
become photographed in her mind. If she had been an artist, she could
have drawn it from memory so accurately that no one who knew the woman
could have failed to recognize her likeness. Always when in the street
her eyes searched for this face; she never passed a woman of small
stature and poor dark clothing without turning to look at her. Every day
she went out, walking the streets sometimes for hours looking for this
face, but not finding it. Every day she passed certain corners and
localities where she had seen women begging, and whenever she found one
with a baby in her arms would stop to look at the poor starved thing,
and question her about it.

Gradually all her thoughts became absorbed in the condition of poor,
neglected and suffering children. Her attendance at the St. John's
mission sewing-school, which was located in the neighborhood of one
of the worst places in the city, brought her in contact with little
children in such a wretched state of ignorance, destitution and vice
that her heart was moved to deepest pity, intensified by the thought
that ever and anon flashed across her mind: "And my baby may become like
one of these!"

Sometimes this thought would drive her almost to madness. Often she
would become so wild in her suspense as to be on the verge of openly
accusing her mother with having knowledge of her baby's existence and
demanding of her its restoration. But she was held back by the fear that
such an accusation would only shut the door of hope for ever. She had
come to believe her mother capable of almost any wickedness. Pressed
to the wall she would never be if there was any way of escape, and to
prevent such at thing there was nothing so desperate that she would not
do it; and so Edith hesitated and feared to take the doubtful issue.

Week after week and month after month now went on without a single,
occurrence that gave to Edith any new light. Mrs. Dinneford wrought with
her accomplice so effectually that she kept her wholly out of the way.
O