_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.