For a few moments after Bennet ceased speaking, the silence was overwhelming. Everyone present seemed to be holding his breath and gazing at the speaker as if transfixed. Bennet stood facing them, his head thrown back, not so much in an attitude of defiance as of waiting for the storm to break about his head for he expected to be bombarded with argument and possible threats and vituperation. Tears filled the eyes of Dean Sandager as pride in the manliness of the speech filled his heart. He had formed a love for Bennet that was almost that of a father for a son.
When Bennet had waited, as he thought sufficiently long, he turned and was about to walk from the table. A voice halted him. It was that of Professor Armstrong.
"Bennet," Truman turned to face the speaker. "A Negro is a Negro and never can be a white man. That's the law in my country. You—"
No one ever knew just what he would have said for Dean Sandager raised his hand for silence and uttered just one word. It came like a sharp and cutting crash of lightning, without the thunder. "Stop!" With the word there blazed a menacing anger in his eyes. To Bennet he turned in a kindly soothing voice, said: "You may go, Son." Dr. Dennig also seemed to recover himself and added, "Yes, go."
As the door closed, Dean Sandager arose, deliberately, slowly and stroked his beard. "I come from New England stock," he said. "My people always taught me to respect manhood and character. I know no prejudices except that based on personal dislike because a man's heart is black through lack of principle. The boy is right. As right as God is right. If we do such an unGodly thing as is proposed this institution will rot and crumble to decay, for it will have proven false to every principle on which it is built. It will-belie every truth it has taught. And if we do vote for such a thing I'll quit my post for the lecture platform and will tell the world what hypocrites we are.
"What have we to do with the personal affairs of one who has broken no college rule? Do we want to brand ourselves, as he says, as unChristian? I think not. I for one will take part in no such action, and if it comes to a vote I'll vote no, though I vote alone."
"Here too, here too, here too," came from three or four of the older men. Several of the younger professors and instructors remained silent. Three or four, however, among them Armstrong, cried: "I'll quit before I'll stand for it. Yes, yes, yes."
Dr. Dennig rapped for order. After securing silence he said: "Well, Gentlemen, it is a sorry moment but I'll put the matter to a vote. I would say, however, before we undertake it that whatever our action let us decide it to be secret and not for the public."
"If the board does right, I'll agree, otherwise I won't," stated Dean Sandager. "I have lived right. According to my belief in Christ and Christianity. I'll die that way. And I'll never give in to foolish, narrow prejudice so unjust as color prejudice is," he added.
"Why the whole world is prejudiced against black men," shouted Armstrong. "Why blame prejudice on the South; every section is prejudiced against him."
"Yes, the world may be prejudiced but that doesn't make it right. And I deny that all the world is prejudiced. To the shame of some Americans they have tried to make it so—but not all—and it will never be so. God never intended it to be so."
"You northerners are prejudiced, just as we are," retorted Professor Armstrong.
"Those who are, are honestly so, even though they have been misled by your propaganda and lies. You of the south are hypocrites."
"You lie."
Dean Sandager's eyes blazed. "Young man," he said, "I'm old and can't resent your insult in the only proper way, therefore I'll control myself. I say, however, I do not lie and leave it to the fair minds of the remainder of the board to say if I do.
"I say, southerners are hypocrites in their prejudice. We of the north who are misled into evidences of prejudice have been honestly misled and blinded by propaganda and false utterances of one kind or another or some low—passion has been persuaded. When we are thus misled and form a prejudice we live up to that prejudice by avoiding contact with the man or race against whom we feel the prejudice. You of the south shout race inferiority, and prejudice and yet have all sorts of associations, legitimate and illegitimate with those against whom you are prejudiced.
"If I am prejudiced against a man I want nothing to do with him; neither his service nor his presence. You of the South shout prejudice but want to hold onto that against which you are prejudiced; want to keep it near you; want it to nurse you, feed you, support you, toil for you, create your wealth, minister to your wants higher and lower. He on such prejudice and fie on you Professor Armstrong with your hypocritical protests. Why, all your south is you owe to the Negro, even your education."
Armstrong had arisen from his seat and was walking menacingly toward the Dean by this time. Several of the men sought to halt him. He swung them aside and strode on. Dean Sandager stood like an indignant deity.
"Let him come," he said. "Let him come. I can take care of myself." Armstrong was withered by the fire of the old man's eyes and halted when within a few feet of the elder man. When he halted, Dean Sandager continued:
"Yes, Armstrong, you're a hypocrite and a coward."
The two men glared at each other for a minute. Everyone was breathless with pent up emotion. Even Dr. Dennig seemed petrified into inaction. Finally he recovered himself enough to rap excitedly with his fist on the table for order. "Gentlemen, remember. Be dignified. Be dignified."
In order to prevent further clashing he hurriedly added: "We'll vote by secret ballot on the question. The secretary will prepare the ballots."
"Vote secretly," exploded Dean Sandager. "Vote secretly? My God. Quit ye like men! Quit ye like men!" he urged, using the Biblical quotation he had often used in exhorting his classes during lectures.
Despite his urging the secret ballots were prepared and placed at each man's side. After a sufficient time had been allowed for judgment, Dr. Dennig asked: "Has everybody voted?" He was assured that they had and ballots were collected, placed at his side. The secretary counted them off. There were twenty-four men present and twenty-four had voted. The secretary read off the votes aloud.
They were: "Yes, yes, no, no, no, yes, no, yes, yes, yes, yes, no," the count was becoming agonizing. The secretary still droned the count. No, no, no, no, no, no, yes, yes, no, no, no, yes." Audible sighs were heard all about the table as the count ended. It was found that Bennet's diploma would not be withheld.
"Thank God!" breathed Dean Sandager. "God is a Just God and Right has won."
"I resign," shouted Armstrong. "Damned if I'll stay at any such college."
"You were just a little ahead of me, young man. I was about to ask for your resignation," quietly offered Dr. Dennig. Dean Sandager turned and grasped the President's hand, shaking it warmly. There were tears of nervous joy in his eyes. He could not speak. Dr. Dennig, however, returned the handshake with: "You're right. I thank you for showing me the way."
Dean Sandager shook his head. "No. It's you. I never doubted you, Dennig."
The faculty meeting adjourned in confusion immediately. Dean Sandager and Dr. Dennig leaving the room together, others of the faculty departing in groups discussing the affair and its result. Professor Armstrong was loud in his denunciations of all who voted against him.
No one gave heed to him, however, as he walked from the room grumbling: "I won't stay with a lot of cowards and weak sentimentalists. I'll go where real white men live."
Despite the efforts of the faculty to keep the matter secret, Professor Rumor, head of one of the most important departments of any college group, soon had the story whispered about and discussed from various angles. Members of Bennet's class, however much they knew of the affair, liked him so well they never mentioned the subject in his presence.
Events moved rapidly toward commencement and the attending functions. When Miss Gregory found that she could not prevent Bennet and Lida meeting or communicating, she was at her wit's end. She hesitated to write south to Lida's father, fearing that such publicity would follow the impetuous old southerner that her school would be injured. She hoped that separation for the summer would serve to cool the friendship. The more she thought of this possibility the more she became convinced that this would be the fact. How little she knew the strength of the bond between the two or their natures!
Instead of thoughts of separation, these two, in their moments of meeting, were planning how to continue their communications and finally their plans for wedding. Each resolved to return home at the end of their work and inform their parents.
"Do you think that wise," Bennet asked, as they strolled under the elms of the East side a few days before commencement, happily reverting to the topic always uppermost in their minds.
"It's the only fair thing to do, dear," Lida returned. "Daddy may rave, for a time, but" (with the confidence of youth) "I'll make him see it my way. I know I will."
"I don't know, Blossom Girl," Bennet replied, using the pet name which always awakened tenderness in him most deeply as he addressed her. She had always seemed to him like some fresh blooming wood blossom, he explained when he first addressed her in that term. "Old men are rather positive at times. And I'm afraid harm will come to you. Why go south at all? Why not get married and go to my home then go away as we had planned, writing the news to your father."
"That's not a bit like you, Truman. It wouldn't be fair. And I want to be fair. I will be fair in all I do. I love you with all my heart and always will but I love my father, too. Remember he's been father and mother to me for a long time. I'll be as fair with him as I will always be with you."
"Bless your heart," he breathed tenderly. "Have it your way. I feel though, that we are in for trouble under that plan."
"Why let trouble bother us? You have my heart," she shyly answered.
"Well," he yielded, "I'll let you go but you must return to me in a month or sooner. You know we sail on my commission shortly after and I'm to take my best beloved bride with me."
"I'll go home and see my folks then meet you and be married. I'll also tell my people of our plans."
Under the elms they strolled arm in arm unmindful of all else save themselves till the warning clock on the First Meeting House told of the hour to retire.
"Oh, I didn't know it was so late," exclaimed Lida as she counted the strokes of the midnight bell. Leaning more heavily on Bennet's arm, she indicated a wish to return and the two retraced their steps.
As they reached the steps of the school the two stood facing each other. A young moon was shyly peeping, through the heavy branches, on the stillness of the scene.
"God has richly blessed me. My heart is full. I'll wade through death itself for you, Little Girl." There was that vibration in his voice and such seriousness in his face that Lida almost felt a pain of happiness in her heart.
"I like you best, when you say things like that," she breathed tenderly. "They seem so real and true. You don't know how happy you make me." The great mother impulse in the girl caused her to cling closer to Bennet and to reach her hands up to his face and caress his cheeks.
"He has blessed me, too, Man of Mine." She blushed as she uttered the words and realized what she had unconsciously said. The feeling in her heart had forced them to her lips, the woman in her overcoming the maidenliness. She was so confused she kissed him suddenly and ran lightly up the steps and was gone.
Bennet watched her retreating form lift like a vision up the steps, and stood waiting for her to turn and look at him again. He stood so for a few moments and when she failed to look back, bared his head, lifted his face to the sky and said, fervently: "God grant that I shall be always worthy of her—that I'll always make her happy."
He turned to leave, his soul still in the universe of his love. Lida reached her room and looked from her window. He failed to turn but she blew him a kiss from the tips of her fingers then sank by the window sill where tears of sheer happiness filled her eyes.
Commencement day found the college yard filled with hundreds of shouting, laughing, handshaking graduates of the famous old school, all returned to do honors to their alma mater and to renew friendships as well as to give accounts of their activities since the previous gathering.
Campus was decorated as only college youth, with unlimited imagination can decorate for their friends and relatives on festive occasions. Fathers, mothers, sisters and brothers, all proud of their individual candidate for degree strolled about the grounds, meeting friends of other years or renewing acquaintances formed since arrival.
In their caps and gowns the candidates for degrees were assembling under the guidance of their chief marshal and aids. The scene was one of kaleidoscopic, ever changing colorations. The band was discoursing lively tempting music; here and there couples unable to resist the appeal were swaying to the strains. Prominent among those gathered were the parents and family of Bennet.
The father, a dignified, kindly-eyed man, with a smiling, genial face, hair turned iron gray, walked erect, head lifted, about the yard, his wife, a delightfully motherly soul on his arm. Behind them or at their side, never still, fluttered a daughter, laughingly waving to acquaintances, newly made or those of longer standing, a charming bit of human vitality, a bit chic and yet wholesome. This was certainly a marked family.
Mrs. Bennet was rather grave in her serenity and seemed preoccupied with pride in the popularity of her son, her eyes following him everywhere as he moved from one group of friends to another. This was a proud moment for her as well.
As they walked about, Bennet hailed them in passing, with:
"Hello, father. Having a good time?"
The elder man only smiled. Bennet lifted the serene face of his mother and kissed her cheeks.
"Mother I'm happy today." His happines showing in his face.
"You ought to be, my son. This is a day I've long prayed to come to you. Make the most of it."
"Yes, boy, it's your day," the father added. "Don't mind us. We'll get along."
"I've only one other wish, Truman," Mrs. Bennet offered in dignified tenderness.
"What's that, mother?" he questioned as he placed an arm about her waist.
"That is to see you happily married. When that comes then I'll be completely happy," she replied looking steadfastly at him in her maternal way.
"I like that," chimed in the sister. "Where do I fit in this merry scheme. It seems not at all." At this all laughed, while the mother turned to her saying, "Your time'll come soon enough. Soon enough."
"Mother, I'm happy and I hope to be happily married soon."
The mother's face clouded for a fleeting moment, then she said, "Well, all I ask is that she is a good girl and that you are well mated."
"I'll tell you all about her when we get home."
"Got her all picked out?" laughed the sister, clapping her hands. "Oh,—how romantic. Won't the wedding be fun?" at the conjuring up of which she laughed again and clapped her hands.
Before they could say more the band began to sound assembly call for the parade to chapel for awarding of degrees. Slowly the procession marched across the campus to the half-sad-march music heard from year to year. The girls of Miss Gregory's school had already been seated in a special gallery of the chapel as invited guests. In this group was Lida, her eyes strained for the sight of but one, her heart a-flutter.
This was her first attendance at such an affair and the experience was thrilling. Her eyes sought Bennet and once having located him she saw no one else during the entire program. After the orations and the distribution of the degrees the assembly was dismissed. Truman sought Lida as the crowd passed out and laid the diploma, so hardly won, in her hands. Without being noticed the girl gracefully and with a feeling of tenderness that it belonged to him, raised it to her lips.
There was time for no more. Bennet was called to his class for the return march to the campus and Lida rushed to her room to depart for her home. It had been arranged for her to leave immediately, Miss Gregory wishing to get her started for her southern home as quickly as possible. It was only because Lida had asserted with positiveness that she would not go till after the commencement exercises that Miss Gregory gave in to that extent. She had wished the girl to leave before commencement was over, in order to separate her as soon as possible from her lover. Lida won her way, however, to the extent of this compromise in plans made for her. All this had been explained to Bennet the night before and was understood.
When Lida reached her room she carefully packed the diploma in her trunk where it would be protected and with time to say adieu to but few of the girls remaining, was whirled away to catch the Federal express for the South.