She was very tired and did not talk any more that night, but fell into a quiet sleep, while her husband sat by her, feeling as if he would never sleep again, or know a moment’s gladness. How old and tired and worn he looked the next day, and how he stooped in walking, as if the burden were greater than he could bear. Sometimes he thought it was, and once the tempter whispered that the cold river just in sight from his window would be a better place than his beautiful home after all was known. But Col. Schuyler was too brave a man to die a suicidal death in order to escape a trouble. “Better live and face it,” he thought, and then began to feel a restless impatience to have the matter settled, to know the worst as soon as possible, and he was almost as glad as Edith when she was pronounced able to undertake the voyage. Why they were going to England in the winter they did not say, and we naturally supposed it might be to benefit Edith and pay a visit to Glenthorpe, where Emma was so happy. Norah was not going; Edith could get a maid across the water, she said, and she preferred leaving Norah to look after little Arthur. To Gertie, however, the principal care of the child was given, and she promised to be faithful to her trust, and care for the little boy as if he were her brother. And so one day in January, when the Oceanic sailed out of the harbor of New York, Edith was in the ship going blindfolded to seek the very blessing which, all unknown, she left behind. CHAPTER LV. THE SEARCH IN LONDON. They went first to the —— St. Hospital, where officers and nurses and matron had all been changed since the night when the child Heloise was left at the door. But the books remained, and after a long time they found the one bearing date nineteen years back. Oh, how eagerly Edith turned the worn, yellow leaves till she came to the date she remembered so well. “January —, 18—. Was received into the house a female child, found in a basket on the doorstep with the name Heloise pinned upon its dress.” That was the one, and Edith’s voice trembled so much that she could not speak distinctly, as she asked of the person in attendance: “Where is this child now? Who took her from here?—and when?”