ht home with him in his
cap a handful of this flour, stolen from the place where he was
working--perhaps a quarter of a pound, then worth over a farthing,
and she had mixed this with water in a basin; and this was the food
which had sustained her, or rather had not sustained her, since
yesterday morning--her and her two children, the one that was living
and the one that was dead.

Such was her story, told by her in the fewest of words. And then he
asked her as to her hopes for the future. But though she cared, as
it seemed, but little for the past, for the future she cared less.
"'Deed, thin, an' I don't jist know." She would say no more than
that, and would not even raise her voice to ask for alms when he
pitied her in her misery. But with her the agony of death was already
over.

"And the child that you have in your arms," he said, "is it not
cold?" And he stood close over her, and put out his hand and touched
the baby's body. As he did so, she made some motion as though to
arrange the clothing closer round the child's limbs, but Herbert
could see that she was making an effort to hide her own nakedness. It
was the only effort that she made while he stood there beside her.

"Is she not cold?" he said again, when he had turned his face away to
relieve her from her embarrassment.

"Cowld," she muttered, with a vacant face and wondering tone of
voice, as though she did not quite understand him. "I suppose she is
could. Why wouldn't she be could? We're could enough, if that's all."
But still she did not stir from the spot on which she sat; and the
child, though it gave from time to time a low moan that was almost
inaudible, lay still in her arms, with its big eyes staring into
vacancy.

He felt that he was stricken with horror as he remained there in the
cabin with the dying woman and the naked corpse of the poor dead
child. But what was he to do? He could not go and leave them without
succour. The woman had made no plaint of her suffering, and had asked
for nothing; but he felt that it would be impossible to abandon her
without offering her relief; nor was it possible that he should leave
the body of the child in that horribly ghastly state. So he took from
his pocket his silk handkerchief, and, returning to the corner of the
cabin, spread it as a covering over the corpse. At first he did not
like to touch the small naked dwindled remains of humanity from which
life had fled; but gradually he overcame his disgust,