or_, he never hesitated to befoul his own nest--and he told
Mr. Goodnight how the candidate was using them, how they had wholly
fallen under the spell of his undeniable charm of manner, and how they
wrote to please him rather than to tell the truth.

As he sealed his long letter, Churchill felt the conscious glow of
right-doing and stern self-sacrifice. He had written thus for the good
of the party and the good of the country, and he was strengthened, too,
by the feeling that he could not possibly be wrong. The _Monitor_
cultivated the sense of omniscience, which it communicated in turn to
all the members of its staff.

He passed Sylvia Morgan on his way from the hotel reading-room to the
lobby to mail his letter, and when he met her he quickly turned down
the address on the envelope, in order that she might not see it. It was
done by impulse, and Churchill, for the first time, had a feeling of
guilt that made him angry.

"That must be a love letter, Mr. Churchill," said Sylvia, teasing him
with the easy freedom of the West. "Do you write her twenty-four pages,
or only twenty?"

"I have no love except my work, Miss Morgan," replied Churchill,
assuming his most grandiose air.

"Is that a permanent affection, or a passing fancy?"

Her face expressed the most eager interest, as if she could not possibly
be happy until she had Churchill's answer. The words were frivolous, but
her manner was most deferential, and Churchill concluded that she was
expressing respect in as far as what he considered her shallow nature
could do so.

"It is, I hope, a permanent passion, Miss Morgan," he replied, gravely.
"There is a pleasure in doing one's duty, particularly under
disagreeable circumstances, which I am happy to say I have felt more
than once, and custom usually strengthens one who walks in the right
path."

Still in this mood of contemplation, he regarded her, and he thought he
saw a slight look of awe appear in her eyes. His opinion of her rose at
once. While not able to show merit of the highest degree, she could
perceive it in others, and this differentiated her from the rest of the
group. Churchill allowed himself to see that she had a fine face and a
slender, beautiful figure, and he felt it a pity that she should be
thrown away on a crude, rough old mountaineer like Plummer.

"I often think, Miss Morgan," he said, "that if you had lived in the
East awhile you could have been quite a match for any woman whom I have