unanswered in her mind.

"Is it possible that there can be such a divergence in the views of two
men on a question of right and wrong," she asks herself, "that they will
sacrifice the happiness of the one woman they profess to love, rather
than agree upon a compromise, or one or the other change his views?"

"My father loves me; he lavishes his wealth upon me; I am his only
child, his only comfort. He remains a widower so as to give me an
undivided love. Yet he will not consent to my speaking of wedding Harvey
Trueman. He tells me that Harvey is an enemy of mankind; a man who is
seeking to disrupt civilization; that every word he utters is intended
to inflame the minds of the people; to incite them to anarchy.

"And Harvey, can his words be false when his actions are so generous?
What prompted him to give the miner's widow a thousand dollars? Was it a
desire to do an act of charity, or was it as my father tells me, the act
of a demagogue?

"How am I, a woman who knows nothing of politics or the principles of
government, to decide a question that divides nations?

"What does all the advanced civilization of to-day amount to when it
stands as a barrier to happy marriages?

"I cannot exchange places with a woman of the mining districts. My life
has been so different that I should be miserable."

As she philosophises Ethel glances about her boudoir. It is midnight.
From her open window a refreshing breeze comes from the sea. Venetia, on
the Long Island shore, where Gorman Purdy has built his palatial
residence, is always fanned by ocean breezes. On this particular night
in August the moon shines full and bright. It gives a soft tone to the
luxurious apartment in which America's richest heiress lies tossing
restlessly on her bed.

"How impossible it would be for a miner's wife to exchange places with
me," Ethel sighs.

"I am envied by every woman in the land. And still I am unhappy; O, so
unhappy.

"The fetters of wealth are as binding as those of poverty; they are not
appreciated by the world, and those who wear them are never pitied. If
only Harvey is elected President, and my father's fears are not
verified, perhaps--"

Ethel does not dare to express the hope that wells in her heart.

CHAPTER XVII.

OPENING THE CAMPAIGN.

A National Headquarters at the height of a Presidential election is of
all places in the world the busiest. Men there seem to concentrate the
pent-up energy of four years in the