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Newspaper Page Text
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i HE SOW WHO WAS LOST
9 S s-
By Harold Carter
(Copyright by W. G. Chapman.)
John Marsden vas,at thirty, a self
made man. Not in the ordinary sense
of the word, though. He had made
himself an artist after his father
had cast him out of his house for re
fusing to enter his bank.
"Make something of yourself by
painting, then, and you can come
The Wall Was Covered With Pictures
back!" the old man stormed at him.
That was eight years before, and they
had not met since.
And now, six months after his mar
nage to pretty Molly Lamont, word
had come that old Henry Marsden
vas incurably ill.
"You will go to him, dear?"
pleaded Molly putting her arms
round her husband's neck? "You
know he used to love you; he always
indulged you in everything and ho
lives all alone."
John disengaged himself from his
wife's embrace. The old look of
pride, that she knew so well, came
over his face.
"Molly, dear, how can I?" he asked.
"To begin with, he cast me off when
I was twenty-one. He sneered at my
ability to make a name for myself.
And I succeeded from the first. Raw
lins began to buy my pictures right
away, recognizing their worth. And
now I am almost famous."
"He will be so proud of you. John."
John Marsden laughed bitterly.
"No, dear, he will be humiliated by
the sight of me," he answered. "Hu
miliated to think that the despised
dreamer has become a celebrity."
"John," said Molly, "I want you to
go because it is right. Promise me!"
And so John promised. In truth,
he was proud of his pretty young
bride and anxious for his father to
see her. He had always admired his
father, and loved him, too, in former
days. It was the love that made his
resentment the more bitter.
They went unannounced. The
lonely old man lay in his bedroom in
the lonely house uptown. He was at
tended only by his physician and the
nurse. Henry Marsden had few
friends. His wife had died long since.
He had only two passions in his heart
the love of power and the love of
John. But John, if he suspected the
latter part, had never admitted it to
They saw the physician in the re
"A slight stroke," he said, noting
the expression of anxiety upon the
young man's face. "He ought to liva
He paused. He was well acquaint
ed with the old man's disillusionment
in his son, and he knew that there
was more than a physical malady the
matter with him. "It is his mind "
he went on. "He lives a lonely lite.
If he could acQuae other mteieots lie
would get well. If not ." He