The Day of Judgment

by Joseph Hocking

"The question is," said Paul, "what do you wish me to do? Shall I resign, now at the eleventh hour? If I do, it will be a sign of weakness. It will be a confession that every word in this circular is true. It will proclaim the fact that I am afraid to face the future."

"Can'st a face the future, Paul?" asked one.

"I believe I can," he said, "and yet it is so uncertain that I feel I must place myself in your hands."

"And let t'other side beat us?" cried an old weaver. "Nay, nay, Paul. We mun fight to the end!"

This was unanimously agreed upon, but Paul knew that a deadly blow had been struck, struck by an unseen hand, and in such a way that he had no means of parrying it. He knew, too, that nothing was so fickle as popular favour. A fortnight before, a week before, he felt sure of a clear thousand majority, but he knew that there were thousands in Brunford who would be influenced by what they had been discussing, and would as likely as not turn against him. Still, now that his committee had resolved to fight to the end, he determined he would not fail them, and during the next few days he threw himself into the fray with renewed ardour. He seemed to do ten men's work, and although the clouds hung heavily over his head, he roused his meetings to tremendous enthusiasm. At factory gates, at crossroads, in the market square and in the public halls, he proclaimed his views, and did his best to answer the thousand insulting queries which were constantly flung at him. But he fought as one who despaired. He knew he was fighting a losing battle, and even although there was ever a ring of defiance in his voice, there was never a note of victory.

At length the polling-day came, and he watched the course of events eagerly. Up to now he had never once come into personal contact with Mr. Bolitho. Perhaps he had studiously avoided meeting his opponent, and certainly Mr. Bolitho had not been anxious to meet him. They had passed each other in the streets, but neither had taken notice of the other, and Paul had never once made reference to the treatment he had received at the barrister's hands years before. Let this be said, too, as far as Mr. Bolitho was concerned, he had never, at any of his meetings, referred to the circular which had created such commotion. Whether he had kept silent as a matter of policy, or because he felt it would have been striking below the belt to do so, I cannot say, but certain it is that neither in public nor in private had he ever been known to pass any opinion on the crisis through which Paul was passing.

The polling booths closed at eight o'clock on the fourteenth of December, and then crowds moved towards the town hall, where the voting papers were to be counted. It had been announced that the figures would be known soon after eleven o'clock, and thousands of people waited outside the huge building, wondering as to the result of the day's voting. Of course, Paul and some of his supporters were in the counting chamber, and Paul noticed that Mr. Bolitho passed from table to table, talking eagerly with his friends. Evidently the voting was very close. The little heaps of voting papers were placed along the table, and it seemed as though neither had the advantage. More than once Paul was within a foot of his opponent, but neither spoke a word. It seemed as though something sealed their lips. There was something more than parties that divided them—something deeper, something personal, something that went down to the roots of life.

At length a hush came over the counting chamber. The last of the voting papers had been taken from the boxes, and the little piles of fifty were duly placed and counted. The mayor of the town was at his post, looking very pale and important. A half-sheet of paper was in his hand. "Gentlemen," he said, "I am now prepared to make known the results of the day's voting. It's been a very close fight, and there are less than two hundred votes in it." He did not know whether he was using the correct words or not. In fact he did not care. He was, perhaps, the most excited man in the room, not even excepting the two candidates. "It is as follows," he went on. "Bolitho——" He went no farther, for there was a great shout throughout the chamber. The employers looked at each other with gladness and satisfaction—their side had won! The working-men element looked grim and defiant.

"Silence!" proceeded the mayor. "Bolitho, 7,213; Stepaside, 7,080. It is my duty to declare that Mr. Bolitho is elected."

For the first time Mr. Bolitho turned towards Paul, and the young man noticed the look of triumph in his face. "You see, we've won!" he said. "In spite of everything, we've won!"