The president was rather severely hurt; so much so that he was unable to go to the chapel and read morning prayers, and was confined to his chamber for some days. No investigation into the matter was made until after he was able to be about again. Then he assembled all the students together and stated to them what had occurred, and the pain he had endured in consequence, and asked to have the individuals who had been guilty of this outrage designated. All were silent. One student looked at another, and then at the assembled faculty, but no one gave the desired information, although many of those present knew the parties who were engaged in the act. Finding that no one would divulge the names of those who had been guilty of the outrage against him, the president said,—
“Let all who know nothing of this matter rise to their feet.”
Charles Freeman was the first to spring up, and one after another followed him, until all had risen except William Aiken. The president paused for some moments, and then ordered the young men to take their seats.
“William Aiken will please to come forward,” said the president. As the lad rose from his seat, several of the faculty, who had their eyes upon Freeman, and who had reason for suspecting that he knew about as much of the matter as any one, noticed that he cast a look of anger towards Aiken.
“It seems, then, that you know something about this matter,” said the president.
“All I know about it,” replied Aiken, “is, that I was applied to by some of my fellow-students to join them in doing what has been done, and that I declined participating in it.”
“For what reason, sir?”
“Because I thought it wrong.”
“Who were the students that applied to you?”
“I would rather not answer that question, sir.”