It was pale and jaded
now, and all its freshness seemed gone; hard lines had come about
the mouth, a feverish disquiet filled the eyes, and on the forehead
seemed to lie the shadow of a discontent that saddened the whole
face. If one could believe the testimony of that countenance things
were not going well with Christie, and she owned it with a regretful
sigh, as she asked herself, "Am I what I hoped I should be? No, and
it is my fault. If three years of this life have made me this, what
shall I be in ten? A fine actress perhaps, but how good a woman?"
With gloomy eyes fixed on her altered face she stood a moment
struggling with herself. Then the hard look returned, and she spoke
out defiantly, as if in answer to some warning voice within herself.
"No one cares what I am, so why care myself? Why not go on and get
as much fame as I can? Success gives me power if it cannot give me
happiness, and I must have some reward for my hard work. Yes! a gay
life and a short one, then out with the lights and down with the
curtain!"
But in spite of her reckless words Christie sobbed herself to sleep
that night like a child who knows it is astray, yet cannot see the
right path or hear its mother's voice calling it home.
Pages:
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70