TWO POINTS OF VIEW.
On the way to the hotel after the exciting incidents of the day, which
have culminated in his nomination, Trueman has time to reflect. The
poise of a man of his sterling character is not easily disturbed; yet he
feels misgivings as to the ultimate result of the pending campaign. The
odds are so uneven. On the one side the millions of concentrated
capital, commanding the servile votes of the dependent operatives; on
the other, eternal principles, supported by a few resolute men who will
have to inspire the Nation to action.
"If I only had the encouragement of Ethel," Harvey soliloquizes, "it
would be nothing to face the foes of my country. But I must make the
fight alone. She is separated from me now by a wider barrier than ever.
As the champion of the people of Wilkes-Barre I became the antagonist of
her father, and she had no choice but to remain with him.
"And yet, at our parting, there was a tremor in her voice which told me
that her love for me was not utterly dispelled.
"Sister Martha tells me that Ethel is not happy, that she has ceased to
be the social butterfly, the cynosure of the fashionable set in
Philadelphia and New York.
"As the inconspicuous leader of the working men of a Pennsylvania mining
town I might have won her, even against the opposition of Gorman Purdy.
As a candidate for the Presidency, on the Independence party's ticket,
my hopes are idle."
He enters his room and finds a telegram on the table.
"VENETIA, L.I.
"As a friend I congratulate you on the honor you have
achieved; I wish that circumstances would permit me to aid
you in attaining victory. E.P."
In all the world there is no treasure more precious than the yellow slip
of paper which Harvey holds in his hand. It is a proof that Ethel has
not forgotten him; it even foretells that if victory were to rest on his
standards, he might claim a double prize--the Presidency and a bride.
"What right had I to expect that Ethel could descend from her sphere to
share the uncertain fortunes of a social reformer?" he muses.
"The conditions of life that have been fostered in the United States
since the era of the multi-millionaire make the problem of marriage more
complicated than ever before. How can a woman, born to luxury, hope to
find marital felicity with a man dependent on his daily wages for the
means of supporting himself and family?
"To say that she may bestow her wealth upon her husband, does not solve
the problem; it modifies it by adding a potent deterrent; for a man who
will be dependent upon his wife for support, lacks the essential
qualifications of a good husband.
"The sharp lines of class distinction now drawn in the country are the
cause of most of the unhappiness that attend matrimony. It is the
opinion of others, not the needs of self, that engender discontent.
"I must win a position in the world which will demand the respect of all
men; then I shall offer Ethel, in place of the ill-gotten millions of
her father's fortune, the name and love of an honest and respected man.
And I will be honest and respected, even as President.
"What a commentary on human frailty the records of our latter day Chief
Magistrates present. Each has been of humble origin. He has risen by
virtue of fearless championship of the cause of the masses. Once in the
office of the Presidency, all uprightness and independence has left him
and he has worshiped at the feet of the Idol of Gold.
"To win the Presidency will be to inaugurate an era of real National
prosperity, in which the labor of the people will be insured just
remuneration. To win Ethel will be to abolish the distinction of class."
At the very hour Harvey Trueman is pondering over the grave conditions
that keep him from making Ethel his wife, she is thinking of the mockery
of her riches, which furnish her with every attribute to happiness but
one--that eclipses all others--the heart's desire.
From the days that she had first known Harvey as the brilliant
counsellor, she has felt that inextinguishable love which thrives on
hope, and which will not diminish, even when hope is banished. Harvey
and she had been friends. His brains had won him admittance to the
social class in which she moved. When their attachment had grown to
love, and he had asked her father's consent to their marriage, Gorman
Purdy, the man of millions, had not hesitated to sanction the union.
What a joy had filled her heart when Harvey told her of his love! What
happiness could have equalled hers when she received the news from
Harvey that her father was willing that they should marry?
What has caused their separation?
This is the question that remains as yet 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.