In one of his lucid moments he said:
"How beautiful you are, my child! You shall be a queen. I've dreamed of boundless wealth for you and my boy. My plans are Napoleonic—and I shall not fail—never fear—aye, beyond the dreams of avarice!"
"I wish no wealth save the heart treasure of those I love, father," was the soft answer.
"Of course, little day-dreamer. But the old cynic who has outlived himself and knows the mockery of time and things will be wisdom for your foolishness. You shall keep your toys. What pleases you shall please me. Yet I will be wise for us both."
She laid her hand upon his lips, and he kissed the warm little fingers.
In these days of soul-nearness the iron heart softened as never before in love toward his children. Phil had hurried home from the West and secured his release from the remaining weeks of his term of service.
As the father lay watching them move about the room, the cold light in his deep-set wonderful eyes would melt into a soft glow.
As he grew stronger, the old fierce spirit of the unconquered leader began to assert itself. He would take up the fight where he left it off and carry it to victory.
Elsie and Phil sent the doctor to tell him the truth and beg him to quit politics.
"Your work is done; you have but three months to live unless you go South and find new life," was the verdict.
"In either event I go to a warmer climate, eh, doctor?" said the cynic.
