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.