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:
--Text in italics is enclosed by underscores (_italics_).
--Punctuation and spelling inaccuracies were silently corrected.
--Archaic and variable spelling has been preserved.
--Variations in hyphenation and compound words have been preserved.