She knew that there was fitter work for her somewhere, but how
to find it was a problem which wiser women have often failed to
solve. She was no pauper, yet was one of those whom poverty sets at
odds with the world, for favors burden and dependence makes the
bread bitter unless love brightens the one and sweetens the other.
There are many Christies, willing to work, yet unable to bear the
contact with coarser natures which makes labor seem degrading, or to
endure the hard struggle for the bare necessities of life when life
has lost all that makes it beautiful. People wonder when such as she
say they can find little to do; but to those who know nothing of the
pangs of pride, the sacrifices of feeling, the martyrdoms of youth,
love, hope, and ambition that go on under the faded cloaks of these
poor gentle-women, who tell them to go into factories, or scrub in
kitchens, for there is work enough for all, the most convincing
answer would be, "Try it."
Christie kept up bravely till a wearisome low fever broke both
strength and spirit, and brought the weight of debt upon her when
least fitted to bear or cast it off. For the first time she began to
feel that she had nerves which would rebel, and a heart that could
not long endure isolation from its kind without losing the cheerful
courage which hitherto had been her staunchest friend.
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