The Day of Judgment Part 23

"If you had," said Boston pleasantly, "I should stand no chance at all.

But if she works for me she will more than counterbalance the fact that I am a stranger to the town. Well, we must be going, Bolitho. Of course, Wilson is not expecting us by this train, or no doubt he would have been here to meet us. But as I have to get back to Manchester to-night, we must say what we have to say to him at once. Good afternoon, Mr. Stepaside. I have no doubt we shall meet often during the next few weeks."

"Of course, I can't wish you luck, Stepaside," said Mr. Bolitho cordially. "You see, you're on the other side. All the same, as far as you and I are concerned, we have decided to let bygones be bygones, haven't we?"

But Paul did not speak. He would have given anything to have spoken to Mr. Bolitho in the same spirit in which he had spoken, but for the life of him he could not. A weight seemed to be upon his tongue.

"Perhaps we shall also meet again," he said, turning to Mary Bolitho.

"Do you know, I sometimes think you do not understand me! And I should like to have half an hour's chat with you. It might alter your views concerning me and the cla.s.s I represent." He spoke almost humbly, and even her father did not resent his words. Ordinarily he would probably have been angry that a man of Paul's status should have dared to have spoken to his daughter in such a fashion--now there seemed nothing wrong in it.

"I should love to," laughed the girl. "Perhaps you do not understand my father either. I am sure I could convince you that he's right!"

And with a pleasant smile she left him alone on the platform.

Only a few words had pa.s.sed between them, and if an outsider had been listening to them, he would have regarded them as of no import whatever, but Paul felt that they had changed everything. In a way he could not understand, the old antagonism had gone, and, stranger to her as he still was, it seemed to him that a bond of sympathy had been formed. On previous occasions when he had met her it had seemed to him as though he were meeting an enemy, even although she had filled the whole of his horizon. But now the very atmosphere was changed, and he was sure that when they met again he could make her understand him, and that they would be able to speak on equal terms.

When he returned home that night his mother wondered why his eyes were so bright and his voice so cheerful.

"Have you heard good news, my boy?" she asked.

"I feel that I'm going to win, mother," was his reply, and his words meant a great deal more to him than to her.

CHAPTER X

THE NEW MEMBER FOR BRUNFORD

The day following the meeting at the railway station Paul saw Miss Bolitho in the streets of Brunford and to his delight she greeted him with a frank smile.

"Have you begun your work of canva.s.sing?" he said, with a laugh.

"Not yet," she replied. "Indeed, I doubt whether I shall take any part in this contest. I have been engaged in a far more feminine occupation!"

"Shopping?" asked Paul.

She laughed in a.s.sent. "But I've finished now," she said. "I am just returning to Howden Clough."

"Are you staying in Brunford long?"

"No, I leave to-morrow."

"May I walk back with you?" he asked, wondering at his own temerity.

They went together some little distance without Paul speaking a word.

He felt he had much to say to her, and yet, now that the opportunity had come, he was speechless. He noticed, too, that the people in the street were watching them, and doubtless many were commenting on the fact that he, who had no reason to be friendly with Mr. Bolitho, should be walking with his daughter. Once or twice he looked shyly towards her, and could not help thinking how utterly different she was from the girls of her own age who lived in Brunford. She seemed to have no connection with the town at all. Everything there was smoky and grimy and harsh. She seemed more like a country girl than a denizen of a town or city. Sometimes, when he had watched people in the market square selling violets, the incongruity had struck him. The violets brought in fresh from the country seemed utterly out of place in the grimy hands of these Northern people. As he looked at the young girl by his side he could not help thinking of the violets.

"I want to apologise to you," he said at length. "I was rude to you when I met you in the fields near Howden Clough, and I've been angry with myself ever since. It is very good of you to forgive me. I don't deserve it."

For the first time Mary Bolitho realised what she was doing. In a moment of thoughtlessness she had yielded to his suggestion that he should walk to Howden Clough with her, and she felt angry with herself.

Had anyone told her that morning that she would have allowed him to walk by her side through the public street she would have laughed at the idea. It is true she had been interested in him ever since she had first seen him. There was something masterful in his presence. His political campaign had been marked by incidents which appealed to her imagination, and she felt she could never forget the look on his face when he had flung out his defiance to her father on the day of the election. She felt there was something morose and sullen, if not savage, in his nature, and even while she spoke pleasantly to him in her father's presence, the thought of being alone with him in such a way would have been deemed impossible. Directly he had suggested walking home with her, however, she felt she must fall in with his desire. There was something in him that interested her and almost mastered her.

"You thought I was rude, didn't you?" he continued. "Well, I apologise, humbly and sincerely. But perhaps there was some excuse for me. Your father treated me badly, and, naturally, I a.s.sociated you with him."

"You mistake my father," she said. "He would never treat anyone badly."

"He was unjust to me," said Paul. "I know that barristers are supposed to do their best for their employers, but through him I suffered unjust imprisonment. He did not try to arrive at the truth. He only tried to win his case, and, in so doing, he stopped at nothing to make it hard for me. I am thinking now of that riot trouble. Of course, you heard that I was innocent of the affair?"

"Yes, I have," she replied. "I am very sorry. But surely you understand my father's position?"

"I can never understand injustice," he replied. "Still, it was not your fault, and I acted to you like a brute. Besides all that, you were a friend of the Wilsons, and Ned Wilson hates me."

"Why should he hate you?" asked the girl.

"I will not tell you that," replied Paul. "That would be stabbing a man in the back, and I will not be guilty of that. Anyhow, years ago, I incurred Ned Wilson's enmity by telling him certain home truths. He has never forgiven me. But for the stories he set afloat and his action towards me I should have won the last election. All this made me bitter towards you."

"I wonder," she replied, "if you feel so angry towards me, that you should care to make these explanations." And she did not understand at all why she spoke. They were some little distance from the roar of the traffic now, and could hear each other plainly.

"I want you to think well of me," he said.

"Why should you?" she asked.

"I cannot tell you now," replied Paul. "But some day I should like to.

You wish me good luck in this fight, don't you?"

"How can I," she asked, "when I look at things so differently? I think I admire your pluck, and if I were in your place I should be proud of the influence you have over the working-men; but, then, I think your policy is a dangerous one."

"Let me explain that to you," he replied eagerly. "I think you do not understand how the working cla.s.ses feel, and I, even although my father did not belong to that cla.s.s, I--well, I have been a working-man. And there is a shadow over my name, too, and over my mother's life. I should like to tell you about that."

"Really, Mr. Stepaside, I have no right to hear."

"But I want you to," he urged, and his voice was tremulous. "You really do not know, Miss Bolitho, all I have been thinking, and how I long for you to know the truth. You must know it, too. You have had harsh thoughts about me. Yes, you have been unjust to me, and it's my right that you should know the truth. I wish you knew my mother, too.

If you did----"

His speech was here broken off by the advent of Ned Wilson, who came from a side street. He seemed utterly surprised at seeing her and Paul together, but, without taking any notice of Paul, he exclaimed, "Oh, this is luck, Miss Bolitho! I am just returning home, and I shall have the pleasure of walking back with you. Or, if you like, we will go back to the mill together. There's a conveyance there."

"No, thank you," she replied. "I'd rather walk. Good-afternoon, Mr.

Stepaside. I hope you will--that is----" And then, without finishing her sentence, she walked away by Ned Wilson's side, leaving Paul alone.

"Well, of all the impudence!" said Wilson angrily. His tone did not please the girl. She was vexed with herself for allowing Paul to accompany her, especially as she did not know why she should have done such an unprecedented thing, but she resented Wilson's remark, nevertheless. It seemed to suggest proprietorship.

"How in the world did you allow him to walk with you? Really, Miss Bolitho, I cannot allow it!" And his voice was hot with anger.

"I am afraid I do not understand!" And Wilson saw that he had gone too far.

"I mean, you do not know him. He's a low-bred clown, a fellow who--well, who should not be seen walking with you, Miss Bolitho.

Besides, people will talk; they do not understand."

She did not know why it was, but she felt it was for her to defend Paul, and, without thinking, she burst out, almost angrily, "I think he's a magnificent fellow, and I do hope he'll win!"

"You hope he'll win?" cried Ned.