Five Mile Beach weekly journal., 1915-12-03

some strange reason 1t had lost It's
charm. Was this what he had yearned
for, there among the mighty hills?
These packed and crowded cities, with
their noise and clangor. their trailing
smoke. their hurrying multitudes and
their d~irt-stained, towering piles of
stone and mortar?
YEARLY he closed his eyes and gave
it all up, turning his sick thoughts
upon the benign old face of his father.
So at last he reached New York,
looked with odd unfamiliarity upon its
gayety and life, and hurried to the
great old house in Riverside drive.
Breathless, weak, scarce able to
stand for the strain on his right limb,
Sandry paused with Higgins lowering
adoringly around him in the dusky,
draped hall before the magnificent
room of the worries and browns.
There was the ache of tears in his
throat, a terrible horror of what lay
behind the closed doors, an unendur-
able anguish of abnormal love, but he
squared his shoulders, lifted his head
with his old, jaunty air and entered.
He even called a smile to his lips.
In the high-canopied, copper-posted
bed lay the OLD financier. The fine,
old face with it's pleasant tracery was
marked by the hand of the Last Ac-
countant, but it was still the face of
a great and good man, still held its
benignity, its kindness and courtli-
ness.
Now, with Sandry's step, a mighty
gladness fell upon it, a light of Joy
that was all-illuminating.
"Walter!" he cried out in a voice
of momentary strength, "Oh, my son!
My son!"
And with a shudder to the boys
ears came an echo, "Absalom!"
He dropped beside the bed, gath
cred the white head in his arms, and
rocked to and fro as women rock in
anguish.
Presently Mr.. Wilton Sandry pushed
his son from him with failing hands
and gazed upon his face with the
starved ayes of long-denied affection.
my boy!" he whispered brokenly,
my life's crown, the point of my
whole SUGGEST"
The long, white hands quivered on
Sandry's shoulders. The bright, blue
eyes began to light marvelously.
81 am at the end Of my journey,
Walter, and it has been a splendid
journey-a grand journey-and 1 thank
my Maker for it! have been blessed
beyond most men, beyond my deserts.
Your mother-she was above price,
cannot estimate her by any method.
She was my one low and l have never
thought Of another in all my long life.
May you find her equal, my son, a pure
woman with a heart Of the gold of
undying love. She was an Estabrook-
the best blood in the country. She left
ieave-and you nave proved worthy of
her life. In character, intellect, up
rightness-oh, what a son you are!"
The great specialist. standing in the
curtained alcove of the window behind
the empty wheeled chair, turned anx-
iously. Little Doctor Gentry came for
ward, h~esitating.
mot too much, Mr.. Sandry." he
warned, too much exertion, you
know"
The dying man looked up with that
glowing fire in his keen eyes.
Have l not waited for this hour?"
he smiled. Have / not held back the
sickle of the Reaper for this one hour?
Let it be full, my friend-this is my
sonny son, of whom / am proud as
Alexander Of his conquered world
and l have him here. Let it be FULL"
And Sandry, his heart like stone in
his breast, smiled back with the same
blue fire of keen eyes.
"Old chap" he said lovingly, we're
a pair together-I owe what l am to
you, sir-you have been my pattern"
flush, boy! You got your nature
from your mother. Only your excel
lent grip of finance, your youthful abil-
ity, your forging qualities" here there
was a ring ON unmistakable pride in
the words, that, l do f1atter myself
~bequeathed you, and it is a good gift,
a great gift when 1t goes with square
ness, uprightness, and this you have
to a supernatural extent. That was
my last worry-the uncertainty as to
whether or not you possessed 1.-THE
gift of ability. You have removed it.
] am at peace"
Sandry, looking full at the speaker,
turned a dull crimson from brow to
throat, but every nerve in his body
thrilled with a reckless triumph.
my own success has been my third
great blessing. How great a blessing,
a satisfaction, a pride-a weakness, l
may say, I am afraid to think.
THAT l builded so well and held my
completed structure through the con-
tinual changes and dangers of bust
ness life has been my rounding-out,