are very brave," she said, discovering his wish. "Good-bye. Be a
good boy."

He took the curate's hand. They moved to the door--but there turned
and lingered. While the child looked upon his mother, bravely calling
a smile to his face, that she might be comforted, there crept into his
eyes, against his will, some reproach. Perceiving this, she staggered
towards him, but halted at the table, which she clutched: and there
stood, her head hanging forward, her body swaying. Then she levelled a
finger at the curate.

"Take him away, you damn fool!" she screamed.

[Illustration: Tailpiece to _Renunciation_]

[Illustration: Headpiece to _In the Current_]

_IN THE CURRENT_

Seven o'clock struck. It made no impression upon her. Eight
o'clock--nine o'clock. It was now dark. Ten o'clock. She did not
hear. Still at the window, her elbow on the sill, her chin resting in
her hand, she kept watch on the river--but did not see the river: but
saw the sea, wind-tossed and dark, where the lights go wide apart.
Eleven o'clock. Ghostly moonlight filled the room. The tenement,
restless in the summer heat, now sighed and fell asleep. Twelve
o'clock. She had not moved: nor dared she move. There was a knock at
the door--a quick step behind her. She turned in alarm.

"Millie!"

She rose. Voice and figure were well known to her. She started
forward--but stopped dead.

"Is it you, Jim?" she faltered.

"Yes, Millie. It's me--come back. You don't feel the way you did
before, do you, girl?" He suddenly subdued his voice--as though
recollecting a caution. "You ain't going to send me away, are you?" he
asked.

"Go 'way!" she complained. "Leave me alone."

He came nearer.

"Give me a show, Jim," she begged. "Go 'way. It ain't fair to
come--now. Hear me?" she cried, in protest against his nearer
approach, her voice rising shrilly. "It ain't fair----"

"Hist!" he interrupted. "You'll wake the----"

She laughed harshly. "Wake what?" she mocked. "Eh, Jim? What'll I
wake?"

"Why, Millie!" he exclaimed. "You'll wake the boy."

"Boy!" she laughed. "What boy? There ain't no boy. Look here!" she
cried, rushing impetuously to the bed, throwing back the coverlet,
wildly tossing the pillows to the floor. "What'll I wake? Eh, Jim?
Where's the boy I'll wake?" She turned upon him. "What you saying
'Hist!' for? Hist!" she mocked, with a laugh. "Talk as loud as you
like, Jim. You don't nee