The Day of Judgment

by Joseph Hocking

"Of course I do!" replied the girl. "I should be horribly ashamed if my father did not get in by a big majority."

"Well, then," said Wilson, "it can be done. You see, Stepaside's chances all depend upon the working people. Of course, we have a good many of them on our side, but he has more on his. Now I know what these factory hands are, and although they profess to be very democratic, there's no Englishman that ever lived but who is a snob at heart. If you, Miss Bolitho, will make a house-to-house visitation, you can win enough votes to put your father in, whatever the other side does."

"But that would mean my staying in the town for months!" said the girl.

"It would mean your spending a great deal of time here," said Wilson, who thought he was very clever, "but what of that? We shall always be delighted to see you at Howden Clough, and I am sure Emily, here, would be only too glad to help you."

"Why, indeed I would, Mary," replied the girl, "and, after all, it would be great fun!"

Mary Bolitho looked across at the great town which lay in the valley beneath her. She saw the hundreds of chimneys belching out black, half-consumed coals, she saw the long lines of uninteresting cottages, in which these toilers of the North lived, and she thought of the work that Wilson's suggestion would entail. She did not know why, but she had taken a strong dislike to Paul Stepaside. Perhaps it was because she remembered his words in the shop in Brunford. Perhaps because he had roused some personal antipathy. Anyhow, in her heart of hearts was the longing to see him beaten. And yet she was afraid. She did not like the idea of spending so much time at Howden Clough. She was too clear-sighted to be blind to Wilson's intentions, and she felt sure as to what his hopes were.

"What's the other thing you have in your mind, Mr. Wilson?" she said presently.

"The other thing is personal," was the reply. "After all, who is Paul Stepaside? Who is his father? Who is his mother? Who are his people? We Lancashire people may profess to be very democratic, but we've got a lot of pride in us. I have heard—well, I won't tell you what I've heard, but I'll manage that!"

A few weeks later the contest between Paul Stepaside and Mr. Bolitho commenced in the Brunford district. There were no immediate signs that an election would take place, but each knew that they must be ready when the time came. Mr. Bolitho held crowded meetings in various parts of the constituency, and, according to newspaper reports, was enthusiastically received. This, however, was to be expected. There were fifteen thousand voters on the lists, and Mr. Carcliffe, whom Mr. Bolitho sought to succeed, had at the last election obtained over a thousand majority. Paul also addressed several meetings, which were largely attended, and his supporters spoke to him very confidently about the result. But Paul was not satisfied; he could not help noticing that a subtle change was coming over the town. His experiences of a year ago, and the tremendous enthusiasm which they had raised on his behalf were practically forgotten. His imprisonment was a thing of the past, and the share which Mr. Bolitho had taken in it was no longer very seriously considered. Paul was not long in attributing this change to its real cause. For one thing, he was being constantly met with rumours about his birth. He knew that the artisans of the North, while professing advanced democratic views, were nevertheless influenced by such things. More than once he had been asked what his father did, where he lived, where his mother and father were married, and where he had been born? And presently, when it was rumoured that he had been born in a workhouse, Paul could not help feeling that a subtle force was at work. In addition to this, too, he heard that Mr. Bolitho's daughter had been visiting among the poorer streets in the town, and that on every hand she had been winning golden opinions. It seemed to him from what he had heard that there was a kind of witchcraft in her presence, and that many who had been among his great admirers, and promised supporters, now seemed to think that the other side had a great deal to say. Paul quickly discovered, too, that this girl was no ordinary canvasser. She had been able to meet the working-class politician on his own grounds, and to answer him very effectively. Everyone who has taken part in a political contest knows the influence which a young, educated, intelligent and beautiful girl can wield, and she had gone into the people's cottages and talked, not only with the women, but with the men. She had caught, too, the rough humour of the district, and had acquainted herself with the peculiar needs and desires of the people who worked in the North. More quick-witted and better informed than they, she had apparently been able to answer Paul's arguments, and had, therefore, left them in doubt.

This, too, seemed apparent to Paul. The questions asked concerning his parentage and birthplace synchronised with 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.