The Day of Judgment. Hocking Joseph
the advent of this girl. Never once had he met her, and yet he was constantly hearing of the converts that she was making. As may be imagined, his heart grew bitter at the thought of it, even while he grimly determined that he would win this battle. It is true that the election seemed months away, but the ground seemed slipping from under his feet, and his chances, in spite of what his supporters told him, appeared to grow less each day.
Paul called to mind the time he had met her, in the field close by Howden Clough. He remembered, too, the wild vow he made. This girl, the daughter of the author of his disgrace, one who evidently regarded him with contempt and anger, nevertheless filled his horizon. He knew that the feelings he bore towards her, feelings which no one but himself ever dreamed of, seemed to be madness, while the election that loomed ahead, and on which he had built such great hopes, seemed to divide them rather than to bring them together. If he were beaten in the fight, she would look upon him with more contempt than ever.
This feeling caused his speeches to be somewhat bitter in their tones, and, as a consequence, did not advance his interests—indeed, he felt as though his own supporters were growing half-hearted, if not indifferent, and he attributed it all to the persistent work of Mary Bolitho. Moreover, there were constant rumours about her being engaged to young Ned Wilson—and Ned Wilson, as he knew, was his enemy.
One evening, it was toward the end of September, Paul was walking in some fields beyond Howden Clough. He had been reflecting that he had as yet done nothing towards carrying out the purpose for which he had come North. He remembered that the work his mother had given him to do remained undone.
"I promised her I would go to Scotland," he reflected, "and I've not done it. I've become so wrapped up in this business that I've almost forgotten mother. She still has that cloud of disgrace hanging over her head, while I've been thinking of my own advancement and my own desires. Besides, even if I were to win, I should never be able to speak to her until this matter is cleared up. Of course, she has heard everything, and she will look upon me as——" And then Paul set his teeth together and his eyes flashed with anger.
These thoughts had scarcely passed through his mind when his heart gave a sudden leap. Coming towards him was the girl of whom he had been thinking, and she was alone! Evidently she was on another visit to the Wilsons'; no doubt, too, she was carrying out her purpose of winning voters from him. Almost without thinking he determined to speak to her.
There was no definite thought in his mind, but it seemed to him as though he must speak to her and set himself right with her. He felt it was his right to do so, and that it was her duty to hear.
He lifted his hat on her approach. "I beg your pardon, Miss Bolitho," he said, "but may I presume on your kindness a little?"
The girl looked at him in astonishment. Perhaps she was a little angry too, for the footpath on which he met her was in a somewhat lonely district.
"I know I'm very rude in stopping you in this way," went on Paul, as though he divined her feelings, "and I would not have done so had not the reason seemed to me sufficient. Besides"—and there was a touch of anger in his voice—"it seems to me that it would not only be generous on your part if you would, but just."
As he spoke she could not help reflecting on the change that had come over him since he first spoke to her on the night following his release from prison. Then he was rude, almost truculent; now, even while he seemed angry, his demeanour suggested a refinement of feeling which did not manifest itself then.
"Of course, you know who I am," he went on. "I am Paul Stepaside, and I am your father's opponent in this political contest."
"Is it about the election that you wish to speak to me?" she asked.
"Yes, and no," replied Paul. "Perhaps the contest may be called the occasion of my asking you to speak with me, but the reason lies deeper. I am sure you do not wish to be unjust?"
"I think," she replied, "if you wish to say anything about the election, that you had better seek an interview with my father. He will be in Brunford to-morrow."
"It's not to your father that I wish to speak," he replied.
"I am altogether at a loss," said Mary Bolitho, "to know what there can be that you wish to discuss with me."
He could not mistake the tones in which she spoke. He knew, instinctively, that she did not regard him as belonging to her own class. Her every word suggested to him that he was to her an outsider, one to whom she could speak only as an inferior. A thousand things which he thought he wanted to say to her had altogether escaped him, and for a few seconds he stood dumb and confused.
"Of course, it is about this election, in a way," he stammered presently. "I—I—you see, it means a great deal to me——" And then he ceased speaking again. Somehow the words would not come.
He saw the smile of contempt which passed over her face, and he thought he understood the meaning of it. Perhaps it was the best thing that could have happened to him, for now his anger was aroused, and he saw his way clearly.
"No, no, Miss Bolitho. Do not think that I have come to whine to you, or to make complaints in any way—that is about the things you are thinking of. It's not that. I am prepared to fight my battle without seeking quarter in any direction—that is, any direction that is fair. I have never had a public-school education, but I think I know the meaning of the term, 'Playing the game.'"
She looked puzzled for a minute, and then he saw a flush mount her face.
"I am afraid I do not understand you!"
"The circumstances of my life have not made me an adept in talking with young ladies," said Paul. "Doubtless you think me rude and clownish, and perhaps you are right, but I hope I have nothing but true feelings at heart. You are fighting for your father in this election, Miss Bolitho, and I do not complain in the least. You hope he will win, and you are using every legitimate means to obtain votes for him—that is right, that is fair; but, Miss Bolitho, there is something which I regard very sacred: perhaps the most sacred thing in the world to me is the love of my mother, and the thought of her good name. I will not tell you how she has suffered for me, and how she loves me, but I hope you will believe me when I say that I regard anything which will blacken her name as the greatest insult that can be offered to myself. Have I made myself understood?"
The flush on the girl's face deepened; she knew what he meant.
"I do not mind what people say about me so much," said Paul. "I am able to defend myself, at least when I have fair play. There have been times when I have not been able to do so successfully, still time has been on my side, and justice has been done to me. But can you understand, Miss Bolitho, what a man feels, when, in order to win an election, his opponents have not been ashamed to heap shame upon one of the purest women and the best mothers that ever lived?"
"I am at a loss to know why you say this to me," retorted the girl.
"I do not complain," said Paul, "at least at this juncture, that your father was my enemy years ago. Although he had no foundation for it, he pleaded that I was a dangerous man, an agitator and a leader of a gang of knaves. Through him I spent six months in gaol among felons; I wore prison clothes; I was treated like a dog; I lay there one long, cold winter, night after night, in a damp cellar. This was through your father—not because he believed I was guilty, but because he wanted to make a case against me. I say I have never complained of this, never mentioned it once in this contest. I have tried to fight fairly, on broad general principles, but, Miss Bolitho, my mother's good name is sacred to me. Can you, as a woman, understand this?"
"I do not know why I should answer you," she said, and there was hauteur in her voice. "I cannot help understanding your accusation, and although I am utterly ignorant concerning it, I will say this: never, since I have taken any interest in this contest, have I mentioned your mother's name. Perhaps you do not believe me, and perhaps the reason is that you cannot understand?"
She spoke quietly and naturally, and yet her words stung Paul like whip-cord. Although she did not say so in so many words, he felt that she despised him, and again his anger was aroused.
"You