Charley Lee had not been seen in public since the day when his intoxication had been so terribly exposed by Van Loan. Some of the students said that he was ashamed to show himself; others that his father was keeping him prisoner. But after a little while the truth came out, and all the college knew that he was ill, and could not go out.

The reaction from his fit of inebriety had been a severe shock to a system not especially strong, and the disgrace which had fallen on him preyed sharply on his mind. He suffered a kind of nervous prostration, followed by a low fever, and his strength gave way rapidly.

Parmenter was stricken with grief and remorse. His old friend’s illness swept away the last vestige of his resentment. In all that had passed between them, Parmenter came to recognize no unfriendly acts but his own, no unkind words save those which he himself had spoken.

He kept himself informed of Charley’s condition through his friends; and at last, finding that the sick man was not likely to be able to leave his room until after Commencement, he sat down one day and wrote him this letter:

He dispatched this message by the janitor’s boy, and paced the floor of his room in a fever of anxiety until the answer came. When the boy returned with the letter, he snatched it from his grasp, and tore open the envelope as a starving man would break a crust of bread. The message ran:

Parmenter sat down on the bed, and cried like a child. Then he jumped up and wiped the tears away, and laughed, and read the letter again, and many times again. No pleasure that his life had ever before known had thrilled him as did these simple, tremulously written words.

He went to the window, and looked out upon the sweet June landscape. What a glorious day it was! He seized his hat and left the room singing:

He went down the stairs two steps at a time. Some students in the lower hall, hearing his cheery voice and seeing his radiant face, so wondered at the transformation that they turned and followed him.

Out on the campus was a crowd of Sophomores getting up a game of foot-ball. Parmenter went over, and begged to be allowed to play with them, and they gladly gave him his old place in the team.

And how he did play! What tremendous runs he made!—though he had moped so long that he was not in his usual condition. How he shouted and laughed at each brilliant point in the game, and shook hands all round when his team came out victorious!

Every one wondered and rejoiced at his changed manner, and said that for some unexplainable reason “Richard was himself again.”

That evening Parmenter sat with a group of students on the terrace, and sang college songs for an hour in the good old fashion; and when he went to bed he slept with such refreshing sweetness as he had not known before for many weeks.

The next morning he arose early. It was Saturday, and there were no recitations nor examinations. The work of the term was finished, and the next week was to be given up to the pleasures of Commencement. Parmenter started out for a walk before breakfast.

The morning was exceptionally beautiful, even for June. He crossed the campus and struck into the woods, drinking in the dewy perfumes as he went, feasting his eyes on sylvan sights, listening, with rapt ears, to the music of the singing birds. He thought he had never in his life before seen a morning so thoroughly charming as this.

At one time he found himself in the path leading to the ledge where they had taken Van Loan that miserable night in April. He turned aside at once, and struck off in another direction. He did not care to revisit the scene of that night’s folly. The shadow of this incident was the only one that fell upon his spirits during all that long and beautiful morning walk.

When he returned to the college grounds he started across the campus on his way to breakfast, refreshed, vigorous, hopeful, with the sunshine of a brighter day than he had known for months already flooding his heart.

In front of the chapel a group of young men stood in earnest conversation; at the corner of South College a half-dozen more were talking to each other in subdued voices. The expressions on their faces indicated that something had gone wrong.

Parmenter did not stop to inquire what it was. Somehow he did not dare to. He pushed on, with a sudden sinking of heart, until he came in front of Professor Lee’s residence.

He stopped and glanced up at the house uneasily. People seemed to be moving about hurriedly in the upper rooms. The hall door opened as he stood there; and Mr. Delavan, the tutor, came out and down the steps. Parmenter approached him and asked hesitatingly:

“Is Charley about the same as yesterday?”

The tutor looked at him wonderingly.

“Haven’t you heard,” he replied, “of his changed condition?”

“No,” responded Parmenter, huskily, backing up against a tree for support. “How changed—worse?”

“Yes, much worse. An intense fever, accompanied by delirium, set in last evening and rapidly exhausted him. He lies now in a state of coma, with symptoms of heart failure.”

“Will—will he die?”

Parmenter’s lips were white, his knees were trembling, his voice was scarcely audible.

“They have little hope of saving his life. The end may come at any moment. Here, take my arm. The news has unnerved you. I am going your way; I will walk with you.”

Parmenter went to his room, but he could not stay there. In ten minutes he was out on the campus asking for the latest news from Charley. He sat on the terrace wall in a place where he could watch the Lee house. As often as the door opened he caught his breath in the dread that some one would bring out news of Charley’s death.

But Charley still lived. The spark of life in his body paled and glowed alternately, and as the day wore on, hope revived.

Late in the afternoon Parmenter caught sight of Doctor Park, hurrying along in front of South College. He ran and overtook him.

“What about Charley?” he asked breathlessly.

“My dear man,” said the doctor, kindly, “we can’t tell. He is alive; we are making every effort to keep him alive. That is all I can say.”

The night came on, but Parmenter did not sleep. Many times in the darkness he crept down the section stairs, across the campus, and over to the house where Charley lay. There were lights in the windows. He could see people moving about in the rooms, and twice some one came out of whom he could make inquiries.

Just before dawn he stood in the shadow of the great elm by the side of Professor Lee’s gate, waiting to see or hear some one or something from his friend.

The hall door opened, and the professor himself came out. With his hands behind him, and his face turned toward the stars, he came down to the gate, and out on the walk, passing under the gas-lamp within five feet of Parmenter, and continuing along the terrace to the college gate. There he turned, came back the same way, and reËntered his house.

That face, as Parmenter saw it under the lamplight, coming and going, struck him to the heart. Never before in his life had he seen such woe and hope expressed in a single countenance. Never before had he seen the intense desire of a man’s heart strained through his face like this.

Was it possible that this was the man whom he had charged with unjust motives, with double dealing, with conduct entirely at variance with the whole tenor of his good and gracious life? And what foundation was there for the charge?

As he stood there, Parmenter went over in swift review the reasons for his hatred of Professor Lee. He stripped them of their fallacies, of their sophistries, of their baseless judgments, till they stood naked and shrinking before him; and then for the first time he realized how utterly unworthy he had been to criticise the motives or denounce the conduct of such a man.

He went back to his room under the dawn-flushed sky, more wise and more humble than he had ever been before.

All through the quiet Sunday Charley lay, gaining a little hour by hour, and when night came again they said that now he had a fair chance to live.

Early on Monday morning the word went round that there would be a college meeting in the North College Hall, and it was whispered that Van Loan’s case would be taken up and disposed of. The feeling against him on account of his heartless exposure of Lee had become intensified with Charley’s critical illness; and now that the strain of suspense was somewhat relieved, it sought to find vent.

The meeting was large beyond precedent. Davis, the honor man of the Senior class, was made chairman; and White, a Freshman, arose and offered the following resolutions:

“Whereas: Benjamin E. Van Loan, a member of the Freshman class, was, on the afternoon of the seventeenth day of the present month, guilty of an offense unbecoming a student of Concord College, unmanly and inhuman in the extreme, and

“Whereas: For his said offense and certain abusive language connected therewith Sophomore Alfred B. Parmenter promptly knocked him down, therefore be it

“Resolved: That the hearty thanks of the students at Concord College are due to the said Parmenter for his just and timely blow, and be it further

“Resolved: That while the students do not desire to usurp the powers of the faculty, they wish to express it as their undivided opinion that the interests of all persons will be better served if the said Benjamin E. Van Loan shall sever his connection with Concord College at the end of the present college year.”

The resolutions were carried with a rush. Not a dissenting voice was heard. A committee of three was appointed to present them to Van Loan.

When, an hour later, this committee went to Van Loan’s room, he was not there. The room was in disorder, as if he had made ready for a hasty flight. The committee on presentation of resolutions has never yet been able to report its duty fulfilled, for the reason that Van Loan has never since been seen at Concord College.

During the day it was said that, with the greatest care and the most complete rest and quiet, Charley might recover. Thereupon Charley’s classmates formed themselves into squads, and took turns in patrolling the grounds about the Lee house.

They allowed no one to walk on the stone pavements in that vicinity. They kept away all noise and intrusion. They themselves went about their duties on tiptoe and spoke in whispers. Nothing was left undone by any one on the hill to help forward the chances of Charley’s recovery. The Seniors gave up their class ball on his account, and the Juniors their “cremation.”

No bells were rung, no terrace songs were sung; the quiet of a peaceful Sunday reigned for days between South College and the gate.

On Commencement Day the announcement was made from the stage that the danger line in Charley’s case had been passed, and only the unexpected would now prevent his recovery.

A great cheer went up from the vast audience; for Lee, in spite of his last few months of ill behavior, was still the best-loved fellow on the hill.

This was on Wednesday. On Thursday Parmenter started for his home, three hundred miles away. He had seen neither Charley nor Professor Lee; it was not possible to do so. But he was content now to bide his time for explanation, for confession, for reconciliation.

Mr. Delavan had told him on the day of his departure of some things that gave him a clearer insight into Van Loan’s perfidy, and into Professor Lee’s simple honesty of character; and in the days of sober thought that followed he felt more and more how unworthy had been his self-made charges and suspicions, how unjustifiable and unmanly had been his treatment of Professor Lee.

In August a rumor reached Parmenter that the Lees were going to Europe for a long vacation. Both Charley’s health and his father’s demanded the change, and Mrs. Lee was to go with them. Parmenter was aroused by the news into sudden activity.

He had looked forward to the opening of the term in September as the time when he should go to the man whom he had wronged, arraign himself, plead guilty, and ask to be forgiven. He could not postpone that duty for a year, perhaps for two years longer; he felt that he could not bear the burden of his shame for all that time, nor rest in the uncertainty of only a possible reconciliation.

He must see Professor Lee and Charley before they sailed.

He threw a few things into a satchel, and took the next train for the East. He traveled a night and a day, and the next afternoon he found himself hurrying up Concord Street to College Hill.

Certainly there was no time to lose.

“All gone away to New York this morning,” said the servant at Professor Lee’s house, when Parmenter rang the bell. “They’ve started for Europe!”

Parmenter was almost speechless with dismay; but he had enough presence of mind to ascertain that they were not to sail until the next morning, and that they were to go on the steamship City of Paris.

Away he went to the railroad station, just in time to swing himself upon the train for New York. At Albany he went into a sleeping-car, but did not have his berth made up. He knew he could not sleep. His whole being had turned toward the accomplishment of one object—to find the two men he had so deeply wronged, and beg their forgiveness.

At five o’clock in the morning the train rolled into the Grand Central Station in New York City. Parmenter rushed out hotly and hailed a cab.

“Drive me to the Inman pier!” he called to the cabman. “Don’t waste a second. There’s money in it for you.”

The vehicle rattled swiftly over rough places and smooth. Parmenter fretted nervously within.

At last the cab pulled up at the entrance to a pier. Parmenter leaped out, handed the cabman a sum of money that surprised and delighted him, and plunged at once into the shadows of the long buildings. He hurried down, between rows of bales and boxes, toward the landing-place.

Some people were coming leisurely up; a family group stood not far away, the persons in it weeping quietly; the edge of the pier was lined with men and women, and at the farther corner of it were many who were waving handkerchiefs.

An officer with a gold band around his cap stood looking out upon the water.

“Where is the City of Paris?” inquired Parmenter of him.

“There she is,” replied the officer, pointing to a majestic steamer in midstream, gay with flying colors, and heading down the river.

“Has she gone?” gasped Parmenter.

“It looks as if she had,” replied the officer, smiling.

In sudden weakness and despair Parmenter staggered to an empty truck, sat down on it, and buried his face in his hands.