"It's the elder sister of one of the young men," she explained gleefully. "The youth seems to have waxed somewhat enthusiastic about me; so much so that his sister, who is an artist, came down to the school to see the wonder with her own eyes. She wants me to start sitting for her next Monday. Am I not fortunate? She seemed such a nice woman, and her brother says she paints beautifully. I am so pleased about it."
And this success was only the beginning. Ere long Evarne found herself the proud recipient of more offers than she could possibly accept. Allowing herself to be guided by the experienced Mrs. Harbert, she discriminated among them, and also gradually raised her terms. Nevertheless, work continued to flow in unceasingly; very rarely was there even half a week day that she could regard as a holiday.
As time passed she became quite well known in the artistic world, and sometimes even fulfilled particularly well-paid engagements out of London. Not only was the girl absolutely delightful to the eye, both in face and form, but many an artist found her presence in his studio to be strangely valuable. It was her sympathy with any aspiring worker—the keen interest she took in the picture on hand—quite as much as her quick understanding, her almost intuitive divination of its creator's ideas, unexpressed thoughts and half-conceived fancies, that gave her a unique power that the painters themselves were quick to feel. Her own artistic instincts and her studio training had given her the gift of falling easily and instinctively into poses full of grace and expression. Quite frequently too, studying the half-completed work, ideas would come to her which, with a gentle diffidence, she would suggest—usually to find her thought taken advantage of to the vast benefit of the picture. Unquestionably Evarne had found her vocation at last.
Had she been plunged into the career of a model immediately upon leaving her petted, luxurious life with Morris Kenyon, she would probably have considered it as a truly miserable lot—and herself as a victim of cruel fate. But her descent in the social scale had been so gradual, and had led to such an abyss of abject poverty and humiliation before she had almost groped her way into the next world by the gateway of starvation, that this new existence shone brightly by comparison.
Occasionally she would smile just a little bitterly on comparing her early dreams of artistic fame with the reality of settling down contentedly enough to serving as a mere accessory in the production of pictures. But she had never been genuinely ambitious, and the pang was not severe. Besides, the counsels of Socrates could step in at such moments, and bring contentment and resignation. Poverty she feared and hated, but now that came not near her. True, sweet luxury was also but a memory of the past, but she was well able to live in perfect comfort.
The five years that followed her adoption of this new profession were successful, prosperous, and, in their way, happy. Her beauty was not of the type that wanes with girlhood—each year brought added graces. Her path through life was encompassed with affection, good-will, regard. She made a circle of acquaintances for herself—bohemian, but bright, kindly and amusing. In every studio she entered she was admired instantly and respected ere long. Both men and women artists were considerate and friendly towards the stately young model, and this was all that she desired.
In those five years more than a few men fell captive beneath her subtle charm, but never a one could gain her love, and she ruthlessly made it clear that she regarded unwanted masculine devotion as the most useless and undesirable thing on earth. Neither did the wealth and good position of at least one of her honourable suitors affect her. Evarne was true to her heart, as she had ever been.
She was unfailing in friendship and gratitude towards the old woman to whom she owed so much of her present calm contentment. Very speedily she had discharged her monetary debts to Philia—for so she affectionately abbreviated Mrs. Philadelphia Harbert's somewhat ponderous first name—but that was not all.
Her first upward step had been to move into a couple of rooms in a neighbouring house, furnishing them gradually in a manner pleasing to her taste. After a year or so she grew ambitious, and inviting Philia to join forces with her, migrated to Chelsea. There she took a little house in a poor yet eminently respectable street. Her new domain had a tiny garden in front, a yet tinier grass plot behind, and contained four rooms and a kitchen. True, there was no room for the proverbial swinging of a cat, but Evarne was touchingly proud of her little home, and spent money upon its furnishing with truly extravagant abandon.
Old Philia's engagements as a model had for years past been somewhat difficult to obtain, and as Evarne waxed wealthier, so Philia had fallen into low water. It was accordingly arranged between them, on their first deciding to live together, that when the elder woman was actually earning money she should pay somewhat towards the expenses of their joint establishment. At other times it was to be regarded as fully equivalent if she undertook to prepare breakfast and supper for Evarne, the principal breadwinner and rent-payer; to superintend the labour of the occasional charwoman, and generally to see to the little home being kept neat and clean and cosy.