Even in the days of her naïve ignorance of the real nature of their purchased love—when the consciousness of her own high impulses, combined with the all-embracing instinct of charity in her disposition, had led her to attribute only her own really beautiful motives and emotions to these other women, who led lives outwardly corresponding to her own—she, and they likewise, had felt that there was really nothing in common between them. They belonged to different worlds.
And even now, between Evarne and her lowly Scotch friends—honest and agreeable though they might be—there was still a barrier, that of caste, culture, habit. It might be totally disregarded amongst them by common consent, but was not thus easily annihilated. They were of an entirely different station—of another stamp—from the daughter of the refined Oxford student, with his lengthy pedigree and old traditions. They and their equals could never have entered thus intimately into her daily life had she not been déclassée. In one way or another, Evarne was indeed cut off from all open companionship with those men—and especially those women—who would have been really suited to one possessed of her training, her general refinement, her personal character and nature. Had her few brief years of love's happiness foredoomed her to lead for evermore the lonely life? Was it partly this that was foreboded in the grim smile of Sekhet?
But as comrades the four amalgamated splendidly, and at length the date on which the tour was to really start was actually settled. Mr. Heathmore and Madame Cheape were going direct from their homes to Ayr, since "Bobbie's" birthplace was to have the honour of witnessing the first performance of "Caledonia's Bard." The other members of the company were to leave Glasgow on Monday, rehearse with "Bobbie" for the first time that same evening, and open on Wednesday night.
CHAPTER XX
REHEARSALS
But before then Evarne was reduced to what was indeed a harrowing necessity—a surreptitious visit to the pawnshop. For some days ere this she had been gradually eating less and less in a despairing endeavour to hinder the steady lightening of her purse. But even porridge and tea, bread and salt butter, rice and brown sugar, however cheap, and alas! correspondingly nasty, cost something.
One terrible morning, on returning from the day's meagre shopping, she sat down to grapple with the fact that all the money she possessed amounted to five pennies and one farthing.
The only article of any value that she still owned was her simple little enamel-cased watch.
The dire necessity of creeping into a pawnshop, to raise money on her father's last gift, distressed the girl beyond measure. She sat playing with the poor little thing, turning it over and over tenderly in her hands, while tears of mingled shame and grief gathered behind her eyelids. At length she was learning the truly humiliating side of abject poverty. She had asked Mr. Punter to advance a portion of her first week's salary, and had been refused. Now, not only was she terrified and appalled as she heard the violent scratching of the gaunt wolf against her slender shaking door, but abashed and mortified at what must be done to ward off these cruel fangs yet a little longer.