It was a kind letter, undoubtedly a kind and kindly-meant letter: but Ernest flung it from him as though he had been stung by a serpent or a scorpion. Then he handed the cheque to Edie in solemn silence, to see what she would do with it. He merely wanted to try her constancy. For himself, he would have felt like a Judas indeed if he had taken and used their thirty pieces of silver.
Edie looked at the cheque intently and sighed a deep sigh of regret. How could she do otherwise? They were so very poor, and it was such an immense sum of money! Then she rose quietly without saying a word, and lighted a match from the box on the mantelpiece. She held the cheque firmly between her finger and thumb till it was nearly burnt, end let it drop slowly at last into the empty fireplace. Ernest rose up and kissed her tenderly. The leaden weight of the thirty pieces of silver was fairly off their united conscience. They had made what reparation they could for the evil of that unhappy, undesigned leader. After all Ernest had wasted the last remnant of his energy on one eventful evening, all for nothing.
As Edie sat looking wistfully at the smouldering fragments of the burnt cheque, Ernest roused her again by saying quietly, ‘To-day’s Saturday. Have we got anything for to-morrow’s dinner, Edie?’
‘Nothing,’ Edie answered, simply. ‘How much money have you left, Ernest?’
‘Sixpence,’ Ernest said, without needing to consult his empty purse for confirmation—he had counted the pence, as they went, too carefully for that already. ‘Edie, I’m afraid we must go at last to the poor man’s banker till I can get some more money.’
‘Oh, Ernest—not—not—not the pawnbroker!’
‘Yes, Edie, the pawnbroker.’
The tears came quickly into Edie’s eyes, but she answered nothing. They must have food, and there was no other way open before them. They rose together and went quietly into the bedroom. There they gathered together the few little trinkets and other things that might be of use to them, and Ernest took down his hat from the stand to go out with them to the pawnbroker’s.
As he turned out he was met energetically on the landing by a stout barricade from good Mrs. Halliss. ‘No, sir, not you, sir,’ the landlady said firmly, trying to take the parcel from him as he went towards the door. ‘I beg your pardon, sir, for ‘avin’ over’eard what wasn’t meant for me to ‘ear, no doubt, but I couldn’t ‘elp it, sir, and John an’ me can’t allow nothink of this sort, we can’t. We’re used to this sort o’ things, sir, John and me is; but you and the dear lady isn’t used to ‘em, sir, and didn’t nought to be neither, and John an’ me can’t allow it, not anyhow.’
Ernest turned scarlet with shame, but could say nothing. Edie only whispered softly, ‘Dear, dear Mrs. Halliss, we’re so sorry, but we can’t help it.’