Christie tried to be just and gentle, to prove her gratitude to her
first friend, and to show that her heart was unchanged. But she
failed to win Lucy back and felt herself injured by such unjust
resentment. Mrs. Black took her daughter's part, and though they
preserved the peace outwardly the old friendliness was quite gone.
Hoping to forget this trouble in excitement Christie gave herself
entirely to her profession, finding in it a satisfaction which for a
time consoled her.
But gradually she underwent the sorrowful change which comes to
strong natures when they wrong themselves through ignorance or
wilfulness.
Pride and native integrity kept her from the worst temptations of
such a life, but to the lesser ones she yielded, growing selfish,
frivolous, and vain,--intent on her own advancement, and careless by
what means she reached it. She had no thought now beyond her art, no
desire beyond the commendation of those whose opinion was
serviceable, no care for any one but herself.
Her love of admiration grew by what it fed on, till the sound of
applause became the sweetest music to her ear. She rose with this
hope, lay down with this satisfaction, and month after month passed
in this feverish life, with no wish to change it, but a growing
appetite for its unsatisfactory delights, an ever-increasing
forgetfulness of any higher aspiration than dramatic fame.
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