sease, 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?"

"New York," replied Carmen, a little confused as she struggled vainly
with her hair. "Oh, I'm not going to fuss with it any more!" she
suddenly exclaimed. "Yes, I'll go with you, and let the maid do it up.
Isn't it long!"

She glanced about her, and then up the avenue toward which the men had
been riding. A flush suddenly spread over her face, and she turned and
looked searchingly at the man.

"You--you--live--in--there?" she stammered, pointing toward the
distant house. "And you are--"

"Yes," he replied, coming to her assistance, but evidently greatly
enjoying her embarrassment, "I am the President."

Carmen gave a little gasp. "Oh!"

Then her hand stole mechanically to the rose flaming upon her boso