She told all about the darkness our souls sail through under their sealed orders, knowing neither course nor port--and, though you may be calloused to these trite figures, are they not solemnly true enough, and moving enough, if you take them to heart? And with that slim child alone up there speaking these things so feelingly, it was easy for Cherryvale in the hushed and darkened auditorium to feel with her...
Sometimes they pass oblivious of one another in the gloom; sometimes a signal flashes from out the darkness; a signal which is understood as though an intense ray pierced the enveloping pall and laid bare both souls. That signal is the light from a pair of human eyes, which are the windows of the soul, and by means of which alone soul can stand revealed to soul...
The emotional impression of this was tremendous on all these dear Souls who had sailed alongside of Missy since she was launched.
So let these ships, which have such a vast, such an unutterable influence, use that influence for brightening the encompassing gloom... For, by so doing, the waters of Life will grow smoother, and the signals will never flicker.
She came to the last undulating cadence, the last vibrantly sustained phrase; and then, as she paused and bowed, there was a moment of hush--and then the applause began. Oh, what applause! And then, slowly, graciously, modestly but with a certain queenly pride, the shining figure in white turned and left the stage.
Here was a noble triumph, remembered for years even by the teachers. Down in the audience father and mother and grandpa and grandma and all the other relatives who, with suspiciously wet eyes, were assembled in the “reserved section,” overheard such murmurs as: “And she's seventeen!--Where do young folks get those ideas?”--and, “What an unusual gift of phraseology!” And, after the programme, a reporter from the Cherryvale Beacon came up to father and asked permission to quote certain passages from the Valedictory in his “write-up.” That was the proudest moment of Mr. Merriam's entire life.
Missy had time for only hurried congratulations from her family. For she must rush off to the annual Alumni banquet. She was going with Raymond Bonner who, now, was hovering about her more zealously than ever. She would have preferred to share this triumphant hour with--with--well, with someone older and more experienced and better able to understand. But she liked Raymond; once, long ago--a whole year ago--she'd had absurd dreams about him. Yet he was a nice boy; the nicest and most sought-after boy in the class. She was not unhappy at going off with him.