Whispering Tongues

CHAPTER VII. THE WELCOME HOME. CHAPTER VII. THE WELCOME HOME. Parmenter went back from New York to his home, and spent a night writing a letter to Professor Lee, which was to reach him at Paris. When it was finished the young man read it over, and threw it from him in disgust. It sounded tame, formal, insincere. He felt that such a letter would fail of its mission. He tore it up and wrote another, but with no better success. He tried to write to Charley, but his heart and courage gave out in doing that. He knew that such desperate illnesses as Charley’s sometimes washed the soul clear and the mind free of everything that had stained and clogged it. Charley might no longer feel any need for his friendship. Parmenter perceived at last that such an offense as his could be explained, and apologized for only in person. Written lines were wholly inadequate. It needed the voice, the eyes, the spirit breathing through the words, to make them effective. He knew now that his confession and his plea must await Professor Lee’s return. Now and then he heard indirectly from the travelers. They had been in Berlin, in Vienna, Moscow, St. Petersburg, Copenhagen. The next winter they wrote from Florence, and afterward they journeyed through the Holy Land. Charley was gaining every day in health and strength; still they were not ready to return. Parmenter waited with all patience and in all hope. He devoted himself to his studies; he worked at his college tasks with the strength and earnestness of an enthusiast. He regained his former position in the class. His old, cordial manner came back to him. He was once more a favorite and leader among his fellow-students. The experiences, the follies, the remorse, the suffering, of that second college year had turned the channel of his life and thought, and he stood on the threshold of a broad, earnest, and sincere manhood. Two years went by, and Commencement was at hand again. Parmenter’s class was to graduate, and Parmenter himself was to have the valedictory. All deemed it certain that he would carry off the lion’s share of the honors of Commencement Day. There was no better speaker in the class than he, and the first prize in oratory was sure to fall to him. There was no quicker and more logical thinker in debate. The big Dobell prize was conceded to him in advance. So far as the essays were concerned, no one hoped to surpass him. In class standing it had long been known that he was first. Commencement Day was sure to be a great day, and a succession of triumphs, for Parmenter. “There’s only one thing that will give any of the rest of us a chance,” said Robinson to him, banteringly; “and that is for you to get into a cane rush and break your collar-bone again; and if you could manage also to fracture two or three ribs while you’re about it, you would confer a lasting debt of gratitude on your disconsolate classmates.” There was another thing, too, that was going to happen. “Sammy Lee” was coming home. He and his wife and Charley had already set sail for America. They would reach New York on Tuesday of Commencement week, and be at home on Wednesday morning for the Commencement exercises. A private letter from Professor Lee had communicated the news, joyful to all his friends at the college, that Charley would return fully restored to health and strength, wholly free from his old weaknesses, ready to take up his work where he had left it off, and earnest in his desire to reach up to the measure of sterling manhood. A small party went down to New York from the college on Monday night to meet the Lees when they should land, and escort them home. Parmenter was among the number. When his friend Robinson heard that he was going, he said to him with great earnestness: “Why, Fred, you’re crazy! You can’t get back here till Tuesday at midnight, at the very best; and how can you expect to go on the stage Wednesday morning all broken up with the journey, and be any credit to yourself or your friends? For your own sake, and the sake of your class, you ought not to do it. With all due deference to Sammy Lee, I repeat that you’re crazy.” Robinson paced the floor in a high state of indignation, forgetting, in his unselfish zeal for his friend’s success, that he was himself a competitor for the same honors. Parmenter smiled a little, and said quietly, “Don’t fret, Rob. I want to see the professor and Charley when they land; but I shall be back here all right on Wednesday morning, and all ready.” So Parmenter went to New York. Some of Professor Lee’s enthusiastic admirers among the alumni there had chartered an excursion steamer to go down the bay, meet the incoming ocean vessel, take the professor and his family off at quarantine, and give them such a welcome home as they would not soon forget. Invitations were sent to all the old Concord boys and their families to accompany the party, and quick messages were to notify them to hasten to the pier of the excursion boat as soon as the incoming vessel should be sighted. But Tuesday morning went by and no call came. Noon passed, and the steamer had not yet been heard from. The party of undergraduates and alumni that had gathered at the office on the pier dwindled slowly as the afternoon slipped by, until at last only Parmenter and Delavan were left. Delavan had stepped from the place of tutor up to a professor’s chair; he filled it most worthily. He pulled out his watch, glanced at it, and turned to Parmenter in surprise. “Why, man!” he exclaimed. “What are you thinking of? You have barely time to get to the Grand Central Station before the last train goes out. Come, I’ll go to the station with you, but I won’t go up to-night. I’m not needed at the college, and I’ll wait for Professor Lee.” He had started to his feet and was moving toward the door. Parmenter sat still. “I’m not going up to-night, either,” he said, quietly. Delavan turned back in amazement. “But my dear man,” he exclaimed, “to-morrow morning is Commencement! You’re on the Commencement stage!” “Yes, I know. I shall not be there.” The young professor came back into the room and sat down. “Parmenter,” he said, “what does this mean? Surely you are not going to let the honors of Commencement Day slip by you in order to meet Professor Lee and Charley as they land? I know something of what has happened between you, and what you hope for in the way of reconciliation, and let me assure you that this action is certainly uncalled for. Pardon me, my dear boy, but it’s foolish!” Then Parmenter awoke. “Look here, professor!” he said warmly. “I have been waiting for this meeting for two years. I have thought of it night and day. The hope that it may not be wholly fruitless has kept me from disgrace and despair. Do you suppose that a petty prize or the gratification of a selfish ambition would be enough to send me running like a coward from it now?” “Why, Parmenter, I didn’t know that you—I—” “I wronged Professor Lee!” interrupted Parmenter, hotly. “I wronged him terribly. I contributed my share, and it wasn’t a small one, to his son’s disgrace; and I’ve never said to him one word of contrition, of repentance, or regret. It’s too late to make him any adequate reparation now; but I can be here to meet him and Charley when they land, to acknowledge my fault to him, to tell him of my grief and humility, and ask him to try me again, and prove me that I am wiser and juster than I was. Now tell me, professor, isn’t that the least that I can do and have any semblance of a man about me?” Parmenter had risen in his excitement, and stood with flashing eyes, flushed face, and heaving breast. Delavan went up to him and took both his hands. “I understand you, my dear fellow,” he said, quietly. “You are right. Come, let’s telegraph up to them that we’ll not be there. Then we’ll go back up town.” Commencement Day dawned bright and beautiful. It always did. No one had ever known a rainy Commencement Day at Old Concord; and the day was just as beautiful on New York Bay as it was in the college city. The ocean vessel had been sighted late in the morning; and the excursion steamer, with more than a hundred enthusiastic men and women on board, was pulling rapidly down to meet her. The little boat was gay with bunting. Flags and banners floated from every pole and post. A great streamer at the bow bore the name of “Concord,” and another at the stern displayed the college cry. There was a brass band on the boat, and a brass cannon; and lest these should not meet the anticipated demand for noise, every person on board was supplied with a college fish-horn. But the party failed to reach quarantine in time. They had hardly got below Governor’s Island when the black hull of the great vessel loomed up on the smoky horizon, beating up the bay toward them. Ten minutes later the two steamers, big and little, were directly opposite, though at some distance from each other. Then the reception began. It was peculiarly a college boys’ reception. Human throats vied with brass instruments, with booming cannon, and the blare of horns in proclaiming welcome to the travelers. When the people on the big steamer realized that the demonstration was for some of their number, they crowded to the side of the vessel, and waved handkerchiefs and hats. After a few minutes one of the upper guard rails was cleared, for a little space, of all the human figures save one. That one no one who knew him could fail to distinguish as “Sammy Lee.” He stood, with bared head, waving his hat in one hand and his handkerchief in the other, and apparently shouting some response at the top of his voice. Then he called his wife and son to his side; and from that point up the bay and all the way to the steamer’s pier the three stood together responding as best they could to the cries and cheers, the music and the noise, the waving hats and handkerchiefs that continuously greeted them. At last the big steamer reached her pier and swung slowly in; and the smaller boat made fast to the wharf that the excursionists might disembark and greet the travelers as they landed. Through all this demonstration Parmenter stood quietly in the background, joining occasionally in the cheering, brushing the tears from his eyes now and then, as he noted the sincerity and enthusiasm of the greeting. He went out on the pier with the others, but remained in the rear. Now that his great opportunity had arrived, he hardly knew how to avail himself of it. His heart beat thunderously against his breast. Far up the pier he saw Professor Lee and his wife and son come down the bridge. Then they were swallowed up in the circling crowd that pressed forward to greet them. Parmenter’s heart failed him then; his courage gave way, and he turned aside and stood by a wharf-post, with his face toward the water, that people passing by might not see his tears. After a little some one touched him on the shoulder, and he turned to see who it was. “Charley!” “Fred!” For one second the two men looked into each other’s eyes; then their hands met in a heart-thrilling clasp, then their arms were laid lovingly across each other’s shoulders. They were again in complete accord. No words were necessary to assure them of that. If they had been necessary Parmenter could not have spoken them. The lump in his throat had effectually choked his utterance. After a minute he managed to stammer out: “Charley—your father—I wronged him! I want to explain—confess—and get forgiveness.” Lee swung quickly around, and pierced to the center of the party that was coming slowly down the pier. He whispered something into his father’s ear, drew him quietly from the throng, crossed over with him to where Parmenter stood, and then left them alone together. The crowd moved on, laughing and chatting, casting backward glances at the two who remained behind, wondering a little but knowing scarcely anything of the drama that was being reenacted with lightning-like rapidity in those two hearts. Those who looked at the two men a minute later from the deck saw that something unusual was going on. They saw Parmenter standing, hat in hand, looking straight into the professor’s eyes, and talking with terrible earnestness. They saw, too, that though he did not move a muscle, his face was white and his hands were tightly clenched. The first time that Professor Lee interrupted him he reached out and touched the young man’s shoulder gently. The next time he grasped both of Parmenter’s hands in his and held them fast; and the third time, after a flow of impassioned words that came hot from the penitent’s heart to his mouth, the old man drew the bared young head down toward him and pressed it tenderly with his lips. That was all. After that they came back, arm in arm, to the boat. Tears were in Parmenter’s eyes, but his face was radiant with the sunshine of reconciliation. When every one was on board again the excursion steamer left the pier for a run down the bay and a trip up the North and East Rivers. A luncheon was served; and after that the party gathered in the cabin, and Professor Lee responded to a brief address of welcome. He had never spoken better in his life—never more earnestly, never more joyously. His magnificent reception had warmed his heart, and filled it to overflowing with gratitude and enthusiasm. He told briefly of his travels, and of the pleasure he found in his return home. “This morning,” he said, “with my wife and son, I was looking over our baggage preparatory to meeting the customs officers. Happening to look out on the bay I saw your boat with its flags and bunting, its college mottoes, and its college colors, and its decks dark with people. I could not believe my eyes. I dared not speak of it to my wife and son. “I stole away and went on deck to assure myself. Then I heard a great cry of ‘Sammy Lee!’ and I said to myself, ‘Sammy, it’s you they’re after—sure.’ “So I ran down, and called to Mrs. Lee and Charley. ‘Come,’ I said, ‘come on deck quick! Let the baggage go! let the custom-house officials go! let everything go! The boys are here to welcome us home.’ “Gentlemen, there were men on that vessel who are worth millions. There were high dignitaries of church and state on board. Yet I, poor as a church-mouse, not known beyond the circle of my own pupils,—I, for my own sake, for the sake of the dear ones who are with me, for the sake of the grand old college that I have the honor to represent, have commanded such a reception to-day as those men with their combined wealth, power, and influence couldn’t buy, force, or borrow for a single moment. “I feel it to the bottom of my heart. I shall never forget it. I shall live this scene over in my mind every day so long as I remain on earth.” There was a storm of applause. When it had subsided the professor continued: “I went away from you two years ago, tired, hurt, and miserable; but I come back to you filled with new life. If there were any wounds still open when I entered New York Bay this morning your sovereign remedy of welcome has completely healed them; if there was one hard or bitter feeling still lingering in my breast when I stepped upon that pier an hour ago, the splendid courage, the manly confession, the magnificent self-sacrifice, of one among you has swept it from its hiding-place forever.” Again the storm of cheers and applause burst forth. No one understood perfectly what it was all about, but every one felt that the allusion was to Parmenter. “So I am come to you again,” the speaker continued, “with nothing but love and gratitude in my heart for all of you—with nothing but affection for the dear old college and all who are in it or of it, with the peace and quiet of serene old age stealing softly over me; with the only grief I have ever known, during all my life among you, lost and buried in the beautiful memories of the past. I thank you—thank you a thousand times; and God bless you always!” His voice broke at last, and he sank into his seat and brushed away his tears. But all his boys knew that they were tears of joy and not of sorrow, and the flow of spirits and good-fellowship burst forth anew. Commencement Day at Concord went gloriously by. In the absence of Parmenter, Robinson was the most conspicuous member of the graduating class, and had the largest share of honors. At midnight Professor Lee and his party reached the city, and found a rousing welcome awaiting them at the train. In some unaccountable way Parmenter’s story had traveled home ahead of him, and he had to share with the professor and his family the honors of the night. Later a great crowd of students, with Parmenter and Charley Lee arm in arm in the midst of them, marched up the hill and through the college gate, singing as no one had ever heard them sing before. The party halted in front of Professor Lee’s residence and sang: “Here’s to Sammy Lee, drink it down;” and as that tired but happy traveler laid his head on his pillow in his cherished home, there came softly, musically, gratefully to his ears, from some distant quarter of the campus, the old familiar good-night song: “Sweet dreams, Sammy, sweet dreams, Sammy, sweet dreams, Sammy, We’re going to leave you now. Merrily we roll along, roll along, roll along, Merrily we roll along, O’er the deep blue sea.” Transcriber’s Notes: Punctuation and spelling inaccuracies were silently corrected. Archaic and variable spelling has been preserved. Variations in hyphenation and compound words have been preserved. *** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WHISPERING TONGUES *** Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will be renamed. 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