Hamlen took his hand in both his own and gazed for a long moment into Huntington's face. "Classmate—friend," was all he said, but those who heard the words knew them to be enough.
As they mixed again with the others, and the conversation became more general, the seriousness of Hamlen's earlier bearing partially wore away, relieving the unnatural tension which had almost turned an informal social function into the observance of a religious rite. Then the shadows lengthened, and two of the servants brought out a rustic table laden with eatables, with a huge bowl of strawberries as a centerpiece. There was no need of decoration beyond its cut-glass and rare china, for each dish was a selected masterpiece.
"A Class Day spread in February!" Merry exclaimed enthusiastically. "How we shall miss these strawberries when we get home!"
"'Strawberries may come and strawberries may go, but prunes go on forever,'" Cosden added, glancing at Edith for approval.
The whole experience affected Mrs. Thatcher deeply. She saw the Hamlen of her youth full of promise and ambition, she saw the Hamlen of to-day bound hand and foot in the bonds of his false sophistry. What would he have been had she not broken her word to him? She was vaguely conscious that her present emotion was deeper than any she had ever been called upon to feel for her husband or for her children; she half-sensed the fact that previously her deepest feelings had been for herself. Now she felt a sympathy which demanded restitution, and the impulse must be worthy since it was for the happiness of some one other than herself. Of course, Merry should not be coerced against her will,—but if it could only be!
Every episode, however epochful, must end, and Marian rose at length, indicating that the good-byes must be spoken.
"You'll be down to see us off, Philip?" she asked.
"No," he answered unexpectedly; "if you will excuse me I should prefer to watch you from my Point up there. I want you to remember me amid my own surroundings, rather than as a part of something to which I don't belong."
Next morning, as the little tender passed Spanish Point, carrying its passengers to the "Arcadian," three persons stood in the stern waving to a solitary figure standing erect and motionless. When he made out the greetings from the boat he raised his arm high above his head and held it there, like a Roman of old, in stately recognition. He gave no sign that he saw their further salutes, yet they knew he could not fail to see them. They remained there until the figure became smaller and smaller, and then finally was cut off altogether by a turn in their course.