at secret? Then a life
had been ruined. "I said I would ruin him, and I've done it!" Who? who
could her mother mean but the unhappy man she had once called husband,
now a criminal in the eyes of the law, and only saved by insanity from a
criminal's cell?

Putting all together, Edith's mind quickly wrought out a theory, and
this soon settled into a conviction--a conviction so close to fact that
all the chief elements were true.

During her mother's temporary aberration, Edith never left her room
except for a few minutes at a time. Not a word or sentence escaped
her notice. But she waited and listened in vain for anything more. The
talking paroxysm was over. A stupor of mind and body followed. Out
of this a slow recovery came, but it did not progress to a full
convalescence. Mrs. Dinneford went forth from her sick-chamber weak and
nervous, starting at sudden noises, and betraying a perpetual uneasiness
and suspense. Edith was continually on the alert, watching every look
and word and act with untiring scrutiny. Mrs. Dinneford soon became
aware of this. Guilt made her wary, and danger inspired prudence.
Edith's whole manner had changed. Why? was her natural query. Had she
been wandering in her mind? Had she given any clue to the dark secrets
she was hiding? Keen observation became mutual. Mother and daughter
watched each other with a suspicion that never slept.

It was over a month from the time Freeling disappeared before Mrs.
Dinneford was strong enough to go out, except in her carriage. In every
case where she had ridden out, Edith had gone with her.

"If you don't care about riding, it's no matter," the mother would say,
when she saw Edith getting ready. "I can go alone. I feel quite well and
strong."

But Edith always had some reason for going against which her mother
could urge no objections. So she kept her as closely under observation
as possible. One day, on returning from a ride, as the carriage passed
into the block where they lived, she saw a woman standing on the step in
front of their residence. She had pulled the bell, and was waiting for a
servant to answer it.

"There is some one at our door," said Edith.

Mrs. Dinneford leaned across her daughter, and then drew back quickly,
saying,

"It's Mrs. Barker. Tell Henry to drive past. I don't want to see
visitors, and particularly not Mrs. Barker."

She spoke hurriedly, and with ill-concealed agitation. Edith kept her
eyes on the woman, and saw her g