As she stood before the little mirror, smoothing the hair upon her
forehead, she watched the face reflected there, wondering if it
could be the same she used to see so full of youth and hope and
energy.
"Yes, I'm growing old; my youth is nearly over, and at thirty I
shall be a faded, dreary woman, like so many I see and pity. It's
hard to come to this after trying so long to find my place, and do
my duty. I'm a failure after all, and might as well have stayed with
Aunt Betsey or married Joe."
"Miss Devon, to-day is Saturday, and I'm makin' up my bills, so I'll
trouble you for your month's board, and as much on the old account
as you can let me have."
Mrs. Flint spoke, and her sharp voice rasped the silence like a
file, for she had entered without knocking, and her demand was the
first intimation of her presence.
Christie turned slowly round, for there was no elasticity in her
motions now; through the melancholy anxiety her face always wore of
late, there came the worried look of one driven almost beyond
endurance, and her hands began to tremble nervously as she tied on
her bonnet. Mrs. Flint was a hard woman, and dunned her debtors
relentlessly; Christie dreaded the sight of her, and would have left
the house had she been free of debt.
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