CHAPTER III. BEFORE THE FACULTY.

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For an instant after Van Loan had uncovered Parmenter no one stirred. The act had been so sudden and unexpected that it startled them all. Then a half-dozen men pounced upon Van Loan, bound his wrists, and bandaged his eyes again.

He was thoroughly helpless now, but the mischief had been done. Parmenter, at least, was in Van Loan’s power. The Freshman had seen his face, and could prove that he was engaged in an act for which he could be expelled from the college.

The conspirators retired to deliberate. The question what was to be done was a serious one. Bessick, one of the rash ones, whispered, “Let’s hang him up by the thumbs until he promises that he will never reveal anything of what has happened.”

“That would never do,” said Robinson. “You can’t do anything but threaten. I think he can be scared into keeping still.”

“Or bought off,” said another of the hazers. “I tell you, bribery is the only thing for a man with a character as mean as his.”

There were valid objections to all those methods, and to every other plan that could be conceived; but that the conspirators could not go on with the hazing was plain. The life and fun had dropped suddenly and disastrously out of that, and the danger to at least one of them was too great to be trifled with.

Parmenter again approached Van Loan, his face still uncovered. The others followed to listen. Parmenter’s face was pale, but wore not the smallest look of fright, and he spoke quietly but very firmly.

“You have found out who I am,” he said, “and to a certain extent you have me in your power; but there are some things that depend on the use you make of the knowledge you have obtained here to-night. If you can assure us that you will keep it sacredly to yourself, I think you can trust us, and each of us, to place no obstacle in your way through college, nor harm you in any way whatever. But I don’t need to hint to you what may happen if you betray us.”

Parmenter paused, and Van Loan replied:

“I think I know what you mean. I propose to keep the knowledge I have obtained here to-night sacredly to myself.”

“Do you solemnly promise me, and each of us, that you will never reveal my identity, nor disclose to anybody at any time anything of what has happened here to-night?”

“I make you that solemn promise.”

Van Loan’s voice certainly had in it the ring of sincerity. His captors could ask no more of him than he had promised. The agreement was definite, and both parties thoroughly understood the situation.

Then they took Van Loan back to the college. He was still bound, bandaged, and blindfolded. They led him down the forest path, across the fields, and through the college grove, and loosening his hands, they left him in the middle of the campus.

By the time he had freed himself, and could look around, not one of the hazers was in sight; and before he reached his bed the men who had dragged him from it less than an hour before were locked safely in their rooms.

The next day Parmenter and Van Loan met each other face to face on the walk between the colleges. There was a nod of recognition on the part of each, but no word was spoken. The same thing occurred the next day and the next.

It leaked out after a time, as such things will, that some sort of hazing had been done, and that Van Loan was the victim of it; but who the hazers were no one except those who had participated in the affair appeared to know.

The origin of the rumor could not be traced to Van Loan; there was nothing to indicate that he was not keeping his promise.

As the days went by, and the situation remained unchanged, Parmenter began to feel relieved. The dread of discovery and consequent punishment was rapidly disappearing from his mind; but he was troubled about Lee.

Charley had sobered much since the night of the hazing. It is true he worked harder; but he went about his tasks with an anxious face, and his laugh had lost much of the old-time, merry ring.

He told Parmenter one day that it was a constant trial to him to face his father, who had heard with the utmost chagrin and sorrow that the hazing had occurred, and who spoke bitterly of it, but who evidently did not suspect that his son had been one of the offenders.

“I feel guilty every time he looks at me,” said Charley, “yet I know he doesn’t imagine that I was in it. Why, he’d as soon think I’d hang a man as haze him. That’s what’s hurting me, you see. I can’t get over it. Fred, I’d give up every college prize and honor I ever hope to get, and do it gladly, if I could blot out my part of that miserable night’s business.”

Parmenter threw back his head impatiently. He felt, whether justly or not, that he was responsible for Lee’s participation in the hazing, and the young man’s passionate words of regret cut him deeply.

“Well,” he said finally, “I don’t know that there was any law obliging you to take part in it. You joined us voluntarily, didn’t you?”

“Yes, of course. But after I’d helped start the thing, and after what you said about my backing out, you see I couldn’t very well—Fred, forgive me! I didn’t know how that was going to sound. I don’t mean to blame you, because you’re not to blame, but—”

“Oh, go right on!” interrupted Parmenter, coolly, his face a little pale and his lips drawn; “go right on! I’m the only one who’s in danger, anyway, and I might as well shoulder the whole burden and have done with it. I’m perfectly willing that all blame of any kind connected with the affair shall be laid on me.”

Lee protested earnestly that he had no feeling against Parmenter in the matter, and could not have any. A truce was patched up between them, but their relations afterward were not quite the same.

Each felt a certain restraint while in the other’s presence,—a restraint that might have worn away in time, but which now had only the effect of pushing them farther and farther apart.

Parmenter applied himself with renewed energy to the work of the term, and especially to the task of perfecting himself in his Sophomore oration.

He was passionately fond of oratory. Often, sitting or walking alone, he imagined himself on the prize stage in the midst of his triumph.

Before him in these visions stretched the long aisles of the crowded church, the pews bright with the evening costumes of the ladies, the air heavy with the fragrance of many flowers. All eyes were upon him. Every ear was attentive to catch the sounding sentences that fell from his lips.

The rustle and stir that passed through the audience at some telling point in his oration swept up pleasantly to his senses; the involuntary burst of applause at some brilliant climax rolled like a wave of delight into his soul; and when, finally, he bowed and retired, there were the marked and ribboned bouquets falling in sweet showers on the stage to attest his popularity; there was the long roll of applause rising and dying and rising again, only to be drowned at last in the music of the orchestra.

Oh, it was a splendid scene, a knightly test, a thrilling triumph! To anticipate it, to see it all in imagination as he did, left Parmenter in an exalted state for hours.

But his days were far from being happy. The anxious face of Charley Lee haunted him wherever he went. The old love for his friend was still strong enough in his heart to awaken sincere pity.

He tried a dozen times to bridge over the awkward restraint that separated them; and although Charley was always anxious to assist him, somehow the effort never succeeded. Though neither young man knew it, success lay only in a radical change of the conditions that surrounded them. Since they had been partners in transgression, they must needs be partners in expiation before they could hope to count upon a complete renewal of their old relations.

Lee’s apparent mental uneasiness became the source of deep annoyance to Parmenter at last. Still feeling himself to be the cause of it, still unable to banish it, it irritated him to such an extent that he avoided his old friend’s society lest he should, by open reproof or sharp rebuke, cut the last tie of friendship.

So day after day the two drifted apart, and by and by a new factor entered into the problem of their estrangement.

It was whispered about that Professor Lee had opposed Parmenter’s selection for the prize stage. No one could tell how the information got abroad, nor could any one at first state the ground of the professor’s opposition. Later, however, it was said to be because Parmenter had his arm in a sling and could make no gestures.

But some one who pretended to know said that Professor Lee did not so much object to the fact of Parmenter’s disability as to the cause of it.

The professor was reported to have declared before the committee that Parmenter was the leader in the moonlight rush; that it was a vulgar exhibition of brute force and savagery, and would lower the moral tone of the college for a year; that hazing and rushing were the twin relics of college barbarism; and that since the first had been so effectually abolished, it was high time for the committee to show their disapproval of the other. He knew of no better opportunity to do so than the present.

Parmenter could not learn where these reports had originated. It was suggested that one of the tutors had revealed the secrets of the committee-room to an upper classman, and that the matter had come out in that way. The story had every appearance of verity, and caused Parmenter no little anxiety and unpleasant thought.

Yet he said nothing to Charley Lee about it, nor did Charley mention the subject to him. Indeed, they saw very little of each other these days.

Bessick came in one evening for a chat with Parmenter. Bessick was one of the disappointed candidates for the prize stage. The conversation turned on Professor Lee’s position and opposition.

“I have no doubt,” said Bessick, “that he said just what has been reported.”

“But why should he select me as a target?” asked Parmenter. “Every man of the six was in that rush, Charley Lee included.”

“Well, I heard the matter discussed yesterday—now, I’m not saying this to prejudice the professor, you know, nor Charley, nor anybody; and besides it may not be true. I hope it isn’t. But I heard it talked that the thing was fixed to get you out of the way.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you know Lee is the only man in the class who is able to compete with you, don’t you? The prize lies between you and him—there’s no doubt about that, is there?”

“I don’t know. Suppose there isn’t; what then?”

“Well, with you out of the way Charley’d be sure to get it, wouldn’t he? And Sammy Lee would crawl across the campus on his hands and knees to have his boy take that honor, wouldn’t he? You know that, don’t you? And Charley—well, if you can’t see through a door when it’s open, I’m sorry for you.”

Parmenter protested earnestly that he didn’t think Sammy Lee would enter into such a plot, and he was sure Charley wouldn’t; and Bessick, declaring that he had no personal feeling in the matter, and that he was simply repeating what he had heard, took his leave.

But the seed he had dropped fell into soil ready to receive it. The more Parmenter thought about it and pondered over it, the more he began to believe that Bessick’s theory had some foundation.

One circumstance after another, developing during the few days that followed Bessick’s visit, tended to increase his distrust of Professor Lee and his suspicion of Charley. Whispering tongues were at work, adding one bit of gossip after another to his stock of alleged information.

Finally it was rumored in his hearing that Professor Lee was at work unearthing Parmenter’s part in the hazing of Van Loan, and that he would soon be called before the faculty on that account.

Within ten minutes after this rumor reached Parmenter’s ears Mr. Delavan, one of the tutors, knocked at his door.

“Mr. Parmenter,” he said courteously, “the president desires to see you at his study.”

“At once?” asked Parmenter.

“At once.”

“Very well, I’ll come right over.”

Tutor Delavan bowed and disappeared; and Parmenter, feeling a sudden weakness in his knees, resumed his chair for a few minutes before answering the summons.

At last, he thought, the blow was about to fall. Sammy Lee had procured his evidence! Either Van Loan had turned traitor, or Charley had—confessed, or some one of the remaining twelve had broken his pledge. In whatever way it had come about, he felt sure that it was the result of a systematic attempt on Professor Lee’s part to deprive him of his standing and disgrace him; and his bitterness increased accordingly.

Parmenter’s breast was still heaving with anger and apprehension as he entered the president’s study, and faced the members of the faculty who were gathered there.

President Mather, large, portly, dignified, sat at the head of the table.

“I will tell you at once why we have sent for you, Mr. Parmenter,” he said. “We are informed that you participated in a hazing affair on the night of the twelfth of April. We do not, of course, intend to condemn you unheard. What have you to say?”

Parmenter waited a moment before replying.

“Who is my accuser?” he asked.

“A member of the faculty has preferred the charge,” was the reply.

“May I ask which member of the faculty?”

Professor Lee arose from his chair.

“I made the charge, Mr. Parmenter,” he said, “upon information derived from a student at this college.”

“May I ask what student?” again inquired Parmenter.

“I am not at liberty to give you his name,” was the reply.

The accused man turned again to the president.

“I demand the right to meet my accuser face to face,” he said stoutly, determined to find out, if possible, who had betrayed him.

“That we cannot grant you,” replied the president, calmly, “until we know whether or not you deny the charge.”

Again Parmenter hesitated. He had no thought of denying the charge; but he thought he was justified in endeavoring to learn how much the faculty knew about the matter, and from what source the information had been derived. After a moment he said:

“Hazing is a very indefinite term. Of what specifications does the charge against me consist?”

Some of the members of the faculty moved uneasily in their chairs, impatient at what they considered pure evasion. But Professor Lee rose again and said:

“I will answer the question. The charge is that you, with certain other persons whose names are at present unknown to us, entered the room of Freshman Benjamin E. Van Loan on the night of the twelfth of April last, masked and disguised; that you took Van Loan forcibly from his bed, bound, blindfolded and gagged him, and compelled him to accompany you to a lonely place in the woods, half a mile from the college, where, with cruel persistence and fiendish ingenuity, you maltreated his person and insulted his manhood.”

Professor Lee’s voice had grown stronger as he talked, his manner had become deeply earnest, and his face showed marks of great excitement. He paused for a moment, as if to grasp some final thought. Then he went on.

“And I wish to say in your presence, sir, and in the presence of the president and members of the faculty, that in my judgment, no breach of discipline that has occurred here in years will so hurt us, and hinder us, and sap our moral strength, as this revival of one of the most cruel, brutal, and unmanly customs I have ever known. I do not hesitate to say, sir, that if you are guilty of the crime charged against you, there is no punishment that we, as a faculty, have the power to impose on you that will be too severe.”

No one had ever before seen Professor Lee aroused to such an extent. As he resumed his seat his face was glowing, his eyes were flashing, his under lip was trembling with excitement and indignation.

As for Parmenter, every word that came from the professor’s lips fell upon him like a blow. Never in his life before had any one dared to use such language to him. It kindled in his breast a perfect fire of rage and resentment.

Hot words came boiling to his lips. He had it wildly in mind to fling into the face of this gray-haired accuser the fact that his own son was no less guilty than he who stood there under accusation, and fully as deserving as he of those bitter, cruel, and seemingly vindictive words.

“I regret,” he began slowly, “that you have denounced me with such force and bitterness, since your condemnation falls equally as heavily—”

Parmenter stopped suddenly. A spark of manhood shot up from his breast at the supreme moment, and closed his lips. Whatever the provocation might be he would not stoop to such meanness as that.

For one moment he stood, with white face and clenched hands, stemming, with powerful effort, the tide of speech that had threatened to break disastrously from his lips. Then he turned slowly to the president.

“I do not deny the charge,” he said.

“Have you anything to say in extenuation?”

“Nothing.”

“We shall not keep you longer before us. We thank you for your prompt attendance. Good-morning, Mr. Parmenter.”

With much dignity President Mather bowed the young man out.


                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           

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