hich she must
save for her midnight toils, she left the house in order to seek her
child.

CHAPTER III.

The stars were shining tranquilly, and the moon looked calmly down upon
the great and noisy city, imparting their quietness and peace to the
heart of the eager mother who threaded her way to her sick child. Long
and tedious was the distance, but she felt it not, excepting that she
shrunk from the rough contact of brawling and wicked men, who rudely
pushed past her, as they hurried on to their nightly debauches.

Oh! how sensitive was she then to the thought of the horrors that ever
threaten the innocent and unprotected, if forced by their sad necessity
to encounter the vile and polluted!--and how resolutely did she
determine thenceforth to shield the child of her love from all such
dangers, even though her own life were the forfeit of her care.

She gazed upward into the clear heavens, as if to gather strength for
her future trials, and then pressing quickly on, was soon in the
presence of Mrs. Dunmore. The transition from her own dreary room to the
luxurious and tasteful apartment where she now found herself, was so
completely bewildering, that she stood for a moment, as if in a strange
and mysterious dream. Every thing that taste could desire, or wealth
procure, was lavished upon this sanctum, where Mrs. Dunmore, since her
double bereavement, found her chief delight--yet amid all the splendor
of the place, were tokens of that presence from which naught can exempt
us.

A little portrait draped in black, hung above a crimson couch, whereon
lay a child of exquisite beauty. Her tiny form was wrapped in the purest
muslin, and a light blue cashmere shawl was thrown negligently over her.
One little foot, encased in a delicate slipper, hung over the edge of
the couch, and her long dark curls fell about the pillow in the richest
profusion.

In one hand she held a pretty vinaigrette, and the other was bound in
soft cloths, and slightly confined to her waist by a silken sash. As the
door of the room opened, she flung off the shawl that covered her, and
tried to rise; but the effort was too much for her exhausted frame, and
she fell faintly back, murmuring "Mother, dearest mother!"

In one moment the poor woman was kneeling beside the couch, clasping the
sweet child to her bosom, who with her one little arm girdled that
sacred neck, and with smiles and kisses awakened her to a perfect
consciousness of her safe