"I cannot understand you, Mannis," said the Senator. "You speak in parables; be more explicit."
"Were I married and quietly settled in life, I should be happy; but the only woman I ever loved I fear will never be mine. Your daughter, my friend, could make me supremely content."
Senator Hamblin looked into the face of his companion and replied:
"It would gratify me much if your hopes could be realized. Cheer up and do not look so despondent. My daughter has been terribly grieved by the tragic death of her lover, but time will heal her wound. Be patient awhile longer."
"Ah, my friend, you can easily say that, but could I have the hope that at some future time she would be mine, I should indeed be happy. Urge her to receive my attentions. Tell her of my affectionate regard for her, and if she gives encouragement let me know. Here is a card containing my New York address. One word from you, and I will be here as soon as steam can convey me."
He arose to depart, and Senator Hamblin, warmly grasping his hand, said:
"Good-by, Mannis! Keep up a good heart and all may yet be well."
The door closing behind him, Mannis passed into the street, and said to himself:
"Pretty well played, Mannis, my dear boy. If the old man would only give me his ducats his pretty daughter might cry her eyes out if she wished."