He would lie for hours and hold Elsie's hand, pressing it
gently.

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.

"Perhaps," was the laughing reply.

"Good. It suits me better. I've had the move in mind. I can do more
effective work in the South for the next two years. Your decision is fate.
I'll go at once."

The doctor was taken aback.

"Come now," he said persuasively. "Let a disinterested Englishman give you
some advice. You've never taken any before. I give it as medicine, and I
won't put it on your bill. Slow down on politics. Your recent defeat
should teach you a lesson in conservatism."

The old Commoner's powerful mouth became rigid, and the lower lip bulged:

"Conservatism--fossil putrefaction!"

"But defeat?"

"Defeat?" cried the old man. "Who said I was defeated? The South lies in
ashes at my feet--the very names of her proud States blotted from history.
The Supreme Court awaits my nod. True, there's a man boarding in the White
House, and I vote to pay his bills; but the page who answers my beck and
call has more power. Every mea