Standing side by side at the grave which holds victor and vanquished in
the great war for the recovery of the rights of man, Harvey Trueman and
Ethel Purdy present a strange contrast. He is the acknowledged leader of
the plain people; she is the richest woman in America. For him, every
one within reach of his voice has the deepest love and admiration; for
the hapless woman beside him, there is not a man or woman who would turn
a hand to keep her from starving.
If the men and women of Wilkes-Barre can be made to sanction the union
of Trueman and Ethel Purdy, is there any reason to doubt that the
question of social inequalities can be settled without bloodshed?
Trueman determines to venture his election, his future, his life, to win
the greatest triumph of his career, a wife whom the world despises as
the favorite of fatuous fortune.
With a voice vibrant with emotion he addresses the multitude. Now by
subtle argument, now by impassioned appeal he pictures the conditions
that made Ethel's life so utterly different from theirs; how it was
impossible for her to sympathize with them when she had known no sorrow,
when her every wish had always been gratified. He pictures her as she
appears before them; a daughter whose father has been stricken, as if by
a blow from Heaven; a woman left friendless; for the friends of
prosperity are never those of adversity.
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