“The people!” he had exclaimed in scoffing tones. “Why, my dear girl, the people of your great State are represented in the national Senate by––whom? By nobody, I say. By the flies on the panes; by the mice in the corners; by the god, perhaps, to whom the chaplain offers his ineffectual prayers; but not by men. No; one of your Senators represents a great railroad; the other an express company! The people? Those Senators know no such ridiculous creature as ‘the people’!”
She turned from the Capitol, and for an hour or more 163 strolled in the brilliant sunlight. “An economic disease,” she murmured at length. “That’s what it is. And, like all disease, it is mental. It is a disease of the human conscience. It comes from the fear of separation from good. It all reduces to the belief of separation from God––the belief that upon men’s own human efforts depend all the happiness and satisfaction they can have. Why, I have never known anything but happiness and abundance! And yet, I have never made a single effort to acquire them!” For the girl saw not the past vicissitudes of her life except as shadowy mists, which dimmed not the sun of her joy.
“Take care!” cried a loud voice close to her.
There was a tramping of horses’ feet. A great, dark body swept past. It struck her, and brushed her to one side. She strove to hold herself, but fell.
The man and his companion were off their horses instantly, and assisted the girl to her feet.
“Are you hurt?” asked the one who had been riding ahead. “I called to you, but you didn’t seem to hear.”
“Not a bit!” laughed the girl, recovering her breath, and stooping to brush the dust from her dress. “I was dreaming, as usual.”
“Well, I’m glad to hear that! It was a close shave! I’m mighty sorry! Are you sure you’re all right? Perhaps you had better come in with us.”
The girl raised her head and looked into his face with a bright smile. The man’s anxious expression slowly changed into one of wonder, and then of something quite different. The girl’s long, thick hair had been loosened by the fall, and was hanging about her shoulders. Framed in the deep brown profusion was the fairest face he had ever looked upon; the most winning smile; the most loving, compassionate glance.
“You’ll have to come in now, and let the maid help you,” he said firmly. “And I’ll send you home in an auto. May I ask where you live?”