THE QUARREL OF FRIENDS.
Parmenter, fresh from his extorted confession of hazing, went back
across the campus with his mind in a tumult. Half a dozen students
spoke to him on the way, but he did not answer them. He could see
nothing but Professor Lee’s white, strong face; he could hear nothing
but his terrible words of condemnation.
What right had this man to denounce him as brutal and unmanly? Would he
have dared to do so if he had known how deeply his own son was involved
in the mischief? It was plain that Charley had not told his father of
the hazing. Van Loan must then have broken faith.
But for the time all of Parmenter’s anger was centered, not on Van
Loan, who had betrayed him, but on Professor Lee, who had denounced him.
Every moment some new recollection of the scene in President Mather’s
study added fuel to the flame of his resentment. His indignation was
so great that it had not yet even occurred to him what punishment he
should receive for his offense, or whether he should receive any.
He went up the section stairs blinded with passion, ready to strike
out savagely at anything and everything that pertained in any way to
Professor Lee.
When he entered his room he found Charley Lee seated at his table.
Certainly no meeting could have been more opportune for trouble.
“I’ve been waiting for you,” Charley said quietly. “I’ve just heard
that absurd story about father’s opposition to your appointment to the
prize stage.”
Parmenter went in and sat down. It was apparent that Charley did not
know what had just happened, and Parmenter was not quite ready to tell
him. He replied with forced coolness: “It seems to me that you’re a
little late in gathering news, aren’t you?”
“Why, yes, I suppose so,” answered Lee. “I might have known of it days
ago if I’d been bright enough to take the hints I’ve had, and catch the
meaning of the remarks I’ve overheard. But I didn’t dream of such a
thing.”
“Oh, didn’t you? Well, what do you think of it, now that you have heard
about it?”
Parmenter was exasperatingly cool in manner and tone.
“I don’t know what to think of it,” said Charley, “it has taken me so
by surprise. I don’t know whether it has any foundation in fact or
not. At any rate, any suggestion that father could have had any other
object in view than to sustain his well-known opposition to physical
violence of course you won’t believe. Surely he has nothing against you
personally.”
“No? Perhaps not; but can you explain to me why it was, then, that he
chose me as the subject of his criticism and opposition? It occurs to
me, for instance, that you were about as active in the rush as anyone,
but I have not heard that any objections were raised to your going on
the prize stage.”
Lee’s face turned red and then pale. Parmenter’s speech cut deeply, but
he kept his temper. After a moment he said:
“I don’t think father intends to be unfair to anyone, nor partial to
anyone, especially to me. And I repeat that he has nothing against you
personally. I’ve heard him speak of you in the highest terms.”
“And I,” responded Parmenter, deliberately, “have heard him speak of me
in the lowest terms.”
“Fred, what do you mean?”
“Just what I say. Within half an hour he has charged me with being
brutal and criminal to the last degree.”
“There must be some mistake,” stammered Lee, “some
misunderstanding--certainly he--”
“None at all,” interrupted Parmenter, rising from his chair and walking
the floor savagely. “He did it knowingly, deliberately, cruelly, in the
presence of the entire faculty.”
A light dawned suddenly upon Lee’s mind. “Was it about the hazing?” he
asked.
“Of course about the hazing. He had nothing else to bully me for. It
was his last chance to put me down and clear the way for others.”
The fire that had been smoldering in Parmenter’s breast was beginning
to break out uncontrollably.
Lee’s face turned pale again. He was making an effort to hold himself
in check.
“Don’t be unjust, Fred,” he said quietly. “You know that opposition to
hazing is father’s hobby, if he has one, and you should make allowance
for what he says in his excitement. But if you mean to insinuate that
father is trying to push me up at your expense, I want you--”
“I mean to insinuate nothing,” interrupted Parmenter, hotly. “I say
plainly that there seems to be a powerful effort in some quarters to
make me the scapegoat for the sins of the whole class.”
“Fred, you are beside yourself.”
“It wouldn’t be strange if I were. But what I’m saying is the truth.
Who else was criticised and harassed for taking part in the rush?
Tell me of another man! Who else is summoned before the faculty for
hazing Van Loan, and browbeaten, abused, and insulted? Are you, for
instance? Tell me! Had you less to do with that affair than I? Yet you
can walk around in an atmosphere of innocence and honor, unharmed and
unsuspected, while I, poor fool, must play the part of sacrificial
lamb!”
Parmenter’s face was white with passion. He strode up and down the
floor like a madman.
“Fred, be careful!” Lee’s voice had a ring of danger in it now. “If Van
Loan has betrayed you, do not charge it up to me and mine.”
“Oh, it was Van Loan, was it? I had my doubts whether I was indebted to
Van Loan or you for that disclosure.”
This was cruel; besides, it was false, and Parmenter knew it; but his
rage was running away with his conscience and his tongue.
“Take that back, Fred!” said Lee. “You know it’s not true, and I won’t
stand it!”
“I take nothing back!” shouted Parmenter, angrily. “Do you hear me?
Nothing!”
“Then you are a coward and an ingrate, and I shall not stay to quarrel
with you!”
“And I shall not attempt to detain you. Good-morning, sir!”
The next moment Lee was gone, and the friendship that had grown close
and sweet between these young men through two years of college life had
become a shattered and pitiful wreck.
Charley went down the section stairs and out on the campus, dazed and
shocked. It was the cruellest blow his life had ever known. He would
never have dreamed that Parmenter could say such things to him, or he
such things to Parmenter.
He passed on across the campus with such a burden of sorrow and anger
on his mind that he took no note where his steps were tending. He
looked up finally, and found himself in front of President Mather’s
door. By some connection of ideas a new thought flashed into his mind.
He stopped to consider it.
“Why not?” he asked himself; “why not? It is right; it is just; there
is no reason why one should suffer and not both. I will do it, and do
it now, while I have the strength, and then he cannot taunt me with
going free while he suffers alone!”
Charley walked rapidly up the steps and across the hall, and knocked
at the president’s door. He was bidden to enter. The members of the
faculty were still in the room, discussing Parmenter’s case. They
looked up at Lee in curiosity and surprise. He advanced toward the
president and said:
“Doctor Mather, I desire to say that I took part in the hazing of
Freshman Van Loan in April.”
The professors and tutors stared at him in open-eyed astonishment.
“You did, Mr. Lee?” said the president interrogatively.
“And whatever punishment,” continued Charley, “anyone else receives for
that offense, I should receive the same.”
The president leaned forward in his chair. “We thank you, Mr. Lee,”
he said, “for coming to us with this voluntary statement. Is there
anything else you wish to say about the matter--any explanation?”
“No, nothing--except,” turning for a moment toward his father, who sat
dumb with amazement and grief, “except that I am very sorry, indeed,
especially on father’s account.”
Then his lips trembled, his eyes filled with tears; he turned to leave
the room, and would have stumbled and fallen had not Tutor Delavan
taken him kindly by the arm and led him away.
It soon became known among the students that Parmenter and Lee had been
before the faculty in connection with the Van Loan case. The matter
was discussed freely at the dinner tables, on the campus, and in the
sections; and opinions were many and varied as to the form and severity
of the punishment that would be meted out to the offenders.
That evening, as Parmenter sat alone in his room, Tutor Delavan came in
with a letter for him. He delivered it with a few courteous words, and
retired as quietly as he had come. Parmenter opened the letter and read
it. It ran as follows:
“CONCORD COLLEGE, May 5th.
“MR. ALFRED B. PARMENTER:
“_Dear Sir_,--The president and members of the faculty have
taken into consideration your acknowledged connection with the
hazing of Benjamin E. Van Loan on the night of April 12th. We
greatly deprecate so serious a breach of college discipline.
We desire to be as lenient with you as possible; but it is
our duty and wish to banish this class of offenses from the
college by any and every means in our power.
“The judgment of the faculty is that your name be stricken from
the list of competitors for the Sophomore prize of the present
year; and that the competition for honors and prizes in your
Junior year be likewise closed to you. It is accordingly so
ordered, and of this order you will please take notice.
“Yours with regret,
“SYDENHAM E. MATHER, _President_.
“_Attest_: R. E. HAGERMAN, _Secretary_.”
Parmenter laid the letter on his table, and stared from his window
across the fields, the city, and the distant river to the far-off
western hills. They were simply a dark, uneven band against a sky from
which the deepening twilight had brushed the last vestige of rose.
The punishment was severe enough in all conscience. He could lay away
the manuscript of his oration now, or burn it up as he chose; he would
never need it. He would indeed need nothing of the kind for two years.
Two years of punishment and disgrace for an hour of silly revenge and
doubtful fun! To be cut off from the prize stage with the highest honor
almost within his grasp; it was hard, it was terrible!
He had expected his mother and sister on at Commencement, to share in
his success. He would have to write to them now that they need not
come. Worse than that, he would have to tell them the reason why.
There were others, too, people in the city, who knew of his hopes and
ambitions in oratory. He did not see how he could meet them now, or
speak to them on the subject.
Another man would take his place on the stage. For some one else there
would be the golden opportunity, the exhilaration of oratory, the
admiration of the crowd, the ribboned bouquets, the rolling applause,
the splendid triumph.
Still he sat looking out upon the western sky. One star was glowing in
the clear expanse. Below the horizon there was nothing but darkness,
pricked here and there by the lights of far-off electric lamps.
At home there was a western porch where he had often sat with his
mother and sister to watch just such an evening scene as this. His lips
began to quiver, and his eyes to fill with tears. He turned back into
the room, laid his head down on his bed, and gave way, for the first
time in years, to a prolonged fit of weeping.
But Parmenter’s flood of tears had not the effect to clear his mental
sky.
When he awoke on the following morning his heart was as hard and bitter
toward Professor Lee as before; this feeling, strangely enough, still
overshadowing his resentment against Van Loan.
As for Charley, Parmenter felt that it was all over between them now.
The quarrel of the day before had settled that; and while, in his own
mind, he knew that he had provoked it, yet Charley had said some
things in his anger which he could not forget.
After the blow had fallen, Parmenter had not cared to leave his room
until night, nor to converse with anybody; and he had not yet heard of
Lee’s confession.
Coming back up the hill from a late breakfast that morning, and turning
the corner of South College to go into the chapel, he saw a crowd of
students at the bulletin-board reading and discussing some notice
posted thereon.
He did not need to be told what it was. Instead of going to chapel to
be gazed at and commented on, he decided to pass directly to his room.
When he was nearly across the campus he met Robinson hurrying over to
chapel exercises.
The bell was already tolling the final strokes, but Robinson stopped to
speak to him.
“Well,” he said, as if Parmenter already knew all about it, “you and
Charley are cut.”
“Charley,” exclaimed Parmenter in surprise. “What’s he cut for?”
“Why, for the Van Loan business, you know--same as you.”
“And who gave him away?”
“Haven’t you heard? He went in before the faculty yesterday, after they
got through with you, and accused himself--made a clean breast of it,
voluntarily. What do you think of that?”
Parmenter did not reply. He was too deeply moved to speak. Robinson
went hurriedly on:
“Yes, Bessick and Ogdenburg are put on in your places. The rest of us
are trembling in our shoes, though I don’t know why we need to; you and
Charley won’t give us away, and Van Loan can’t. Say, Fred! is there any
doubt but what Van Loan broke his promise? Everybody thinks so.”
“Oh, I don’t know, and I don’t care now,” replied Parmenter,
impatiently. Robinson rattled on:
“I hear he denies it; but there was no other way for it to get out,
and he’s such an all-round liar you can’t believe him. Say, Fred, when
you’re sure of it just let us know; and if that Freshman don’t suffer
for his perfidy, then--Oh, excuse me! There’s the last bell.”
Robinson, who was an expert runner, shot across the campus, and entered
the chapel on the heels of the last group of attendants.
Parmenter passed on wearily to his room. And so Charley had
confessed--and had been cut! Parmenter wondered what motive had
prompted the confession. Was it weakness or bravery?
Well, there was some satisfaction in knowing that he himself was not
the only one to suffer. He did not know that he had much sympathy to
waste on Charley, after all. He was sure he had none for Charley’s
father.
He picked up a book and tried to study; but he read the pages over and
over again without remembering a word that was printed on them. Deep
in his breast a voice kept saying, “Poor Charley! poor Charley!”
It aggravated him. He threw the book aside, put on his hat, and started
for the city. At the college gate he came suddenly upon Lee, who was
walking up alone. His hands were deep in his pockets, his gait was
slow, his gaze was on the ground.
When he looked up, Parmenter noticed that his face was pale and
haggard, and his eyes were bloodshot.
Charley’s appearance indicated that he had passed a sleepless night.
He stopped, when he saw Parmenter, and seemed about to speak; but in
a moment he changed his mind, for when Parmenter stopped in his turn,
ready to reply to any friendly word, Lee passed on without a nod or
smile, or any kindly look.
After that, whenever the two young men met, in the class-room, on the
campus, or the street, they had for each other nothing beyond the
merest look of indifference, the merest nod of recognition.