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.