The man listened in rapt attention. From time to time he turned and stared at his strange visitor. At other times he made notes of points which impressed him. Once he interrupted, when she made reference to her past life. “This priest, Josè de Rincón, might he not have been imprisoned as a political offender?”
“I do not know,” the girl replied tenderly. “My foster-father, Rosendo, did not mention him in the two letters which I have received.”
The President nodded; and the girl went rapidly on. Soon she was deep in the problem presented by Avon.
But at the mention of that town, and of its dominating genius, the President seemed to become nervous. At length he raised a hand, as if to end the interview.
“I fear I can do nothing at present,” he said with an air of helplessness. “My influence is quite limited.”
“But,” she protested, “you have the public welfare at heart. And can you not see that public welfare is the welfare of each individual?”
“I know Mr. Ames well,” the President replied, somewhat irrelevantly. “He, like all men of great wealth, presents a serious problem, doubtless. But he himself, likewise, is confronted by problems of very trying natures. We must give him time to work them out.”
The girl sighed. “It’s like getting at the essence of Christianity,” she said. “The world has had nearly two thousand years in which to do that, but it hasn’t made much of a start as yet. How much time does Mr. Ames require? And how many more lives must he sacrifice?”
“But,” the President resumed reflectively, “after all, it is the people who are wholly responsible for the conditions which exist among them. They have the means of remedying every economic situation, the ballot. It is really all in their hands, is it not? They elect their public officers, their judges, and their lawmakers.”