The squire set his teeth firmly, his lips were drawn straight and tight, and his eyes snapped and shone with an angry light. Then there was a movement among the men on the platform, and Bradley walked to the front. The clear soft twilight of an English summer fell all over him. It seemed to Annis that his old friend had never before appeared so handsome and so lovable. He looked at him until some unbidden tears quenched the angry flame in his eyes, and he felt almost inclined to mount and ride away.
He was, however, arrested immediately by Bradley’s words.—“Gentlemen,” he said with prompt decision—“I cannot, and will not, accept your flattering invitation. Do any of you think that I would accept a position, that puts me in antagonism to my old and well-loved friend, Antony Annis? Not for all the honor, or power, or gold in England! Annis is your proper and legitimate representative. Can any of you count the generations through which the Annis family hes been your friends and helpers? You know all that the present Squire Antony hes done, without me saying a word about it: and I could not, and I would not, try to stand in his shoes for anything king or country could give me. This, on my honor, is a definite and positive refusal of your intended mark of respect. I accept the respect which prompted the honor gratefully; the honor itself, I positively decline. If I hev anything more to say, it is this—send your old representative, Antony Annis, to watch over, and speak outright, for your interests. He is the best man you can get in all England, and be true to him, and proud of him!”
A prolonged cheering followed this speech, and during it Squire Antony made his way through the crowd, and reached the platform. He went straight to Bradley with outstretched hands—“John Thomas!” he said, in a voice full of emotion, “My dear, dear friend! I heard ivery word!” and the two men clasped hands, and stood a moment looking into each other’s love-wet eyes; and knew that every unkind thought, and word, had been forever forgiven.
Then Annis stepped forward, and was met with the heartiest welcome. Never had he looked so handsome and gracious. He appeared to have thrown off all the late sorrowful years, and something of the glory of that authority which springs from love, lent a singular charm to this picturesque appearance.
He stood at the side of Bradley, and still held his hand. “My friends and fellow citizens!” he cried joyfully, giving the last two words such an enthusiastic emphasis, as brought an instant shout of joyful triumph. “My friends and fellow citizens! If anything could make it possible for me to go back to the House of Commons, it would be the plea of the man whose hand I have just clasped. As you all know, I hev pledged my word to the men and women of Annis to give them the finest power-loom factory in the West Riding. If I stick to my promise faithfully, I cannot take on any other work or business. You hev hed my promise for some months. I will put nothing before it—or with it. Men of Annis, you are my helpers, do you really think I would go to London, and break my promise? Not you! Not one of you! I shall stay right here, until Annis mill is weaving the varry best broadcloths and woolen goods that can be made. Ask Colonel Frobisher to go to London, and stand for Annis and her wool weavers. He hes little else to do, we all know and love him, and he will be varry glad to go for you. Antony Annis hes been a talking man hitherto, henceforward he will be a working man, but there is a bit of advice I’ll give you now and probably niver again. First of all, take care how you vote, and for whom you vote. If your candidate proves unworthy of the confidence you gave him, mebbe you are not quite innocent. Niver sell your vote for any price, nor for any reason. Remember voting is a religious act.”
“Nay, nay, squire!” someone in the crowd called out, with a dissenting laugh. “There’s nothing but jobbery, and robbery, and drinking and quarreling in it. There is no religion about it, squire, that I can see.”
“Well, then, Tommy Raikes, thou doesn’t see much beyond thysen.”
“And, squire, I heard that the Methodist preacher prayed last Sunday in the varry pulpit about the election. Folks doan’t like to go to chapel to pray about elections. It isn’t right. Mr. Foster oughtn’t to do such things. It hurts people’s feelings.”
“Speak for thysen, Tommy; I’ll be bound the people were all of Mr. Foster’s opinion. It is a varry important election, the varry first, that a great many of the people iver took a part in. And I do say, that I hev no doubt all of them were thankful for the prayer. There is nothing wrong in praying about elections. It is a religious rite, just the same as saying grace before your food, and thanking God when you hev eaten it. Just the same as putting Dei gratia on our money, or taking oaths in court, or when assuming important positions. Tommy, such simple religious services proclaim the sacredness of our daily life; and so the vote at an election, if given conscientiously, is a religious act.”
There was much hearty approval of the squire’s opinion, and Tommy Raikes was plainly advised in various forms of speech to reserve his own. During the altercation the squire turned his happy face to John Thomas Bradley, and they said a few words to each other, which ended in a mutual smile as the squire faced his audience and continued: