The Day of Judgment

by Joseph Hocking

"That, of course, was inevitable," he replied. "We had to deal with the question of education, of religious education. How could I keep, then, from dealing with personal matters? You believe in a mere secular education, and proclaim your views with no uncertain voice. I, who am convinced that a mere secular education would ruin the country, had to oppose you, and had to deal with your personal attitude to the whole matter. You cannot deny that! Have the courage of your convictions, man, and stand by them!" And Paul noted the taunt in his voice.

"I have!" he replied. "I deny nothing of what I have said, and your attitude has made me believe less in your religion than ever. Why"—and his voice became tense and bitter—"I'm willing to allow my religion to be tested by this election. I have not uttered one wrong word about you. I have done nothing to defame your character, in spite of what has passed. And yet you have sneered at my 'ignorant atheism and blatant unbelief.' Is that religion? Is that playing the game? You, who profess to be a gentleman! You, who have had all the advantages of education! You, who boast of playing the game, and not fouling the pitch! Even if you have not openly said these things, you have allowed your supporters to blacken my mother's name. You have used foul gossip as a weapon with which to fight. You have allowed a devilish circular to be sent out, and never condemned it. And you have been willing to benefit by the attempts to ruin me!"

Paul watched Mary Bolitho's face as he spoke, and he noted the vindictive anger in her eyes, he knew that he was alienating himself more completely from her by the words he used. But he did not care; he was past caring! The election was lost. He had failed in the fight. The woman he loved and hated at the same time scorned him more than ever—and ruin stared him in the face!

Mr. Bolitho shrugged his shoulders. He had been too long before the public to heed attacks of this sort. He had been hardened by many a fight in the law courts, and he knew how little such words might mean. Besides, he was naturally in a good humour. He had won the fight. He was Member for Brunford.

"Do not let us dwell on personalities, Mr. Stepaside!" he said. "After all, it's the principles of our party which have won. You have fought a good fight"—and his voice became very condescending as he spoke—"but truth and right were too strong for you, and the country is turning against you."

"Come, gentlemen," said the mayor. "We are all ready." And with that he stepped through the window on to the balcony above the entrance to the town hall, while the opponents and their supporters followed. The whole of the street outside the town hall was brilliantly lit by torches, and by the street lamps, so that the eager, upturned faces of the thousands who surged between the steps of Hanover Chapel and those of the town hall could be plainly seen. Directly they saw the mayor the people gave a great shout, and then a silence followed like the silence of death.

"Gentlemen," said the mayor, "I am here to announce the results of the election. They are as follows: Bolitho——-" At that word a roar from the people seemed to rend the heavens. With some it was a shout of victory, with others it was a cry of defeat and anger. It was easy to see the excitement on their faces. One could even tell what they were saying, so vivid was the light which fell upon them. "Bolitho's in, good!" "Stepaside is out, it's a shame!" "It's noan been a fair fight!" "We mun 'a' a petition!" "Nay, nay, it's no use now!" And so on. Only those close to the balcony heard the figures. The noise of the crowd made it impossible for the people standing near Hanover Chapel gates to bear a word which the chief magistrate had uttered.

Presently, however, a great hush came over the crowd again. The people saw Mr. Bolitho step forward, but only one sentence was heard, "Gentlemen," he said, "we have fought a good fight, and we have won it!" Of course, his supporters shouted wildly, but the cries of antagonism were stronger. Voices became more and more angry. It might seem as though a riot were possible.

Mr. Bolitho, however, continued his speech, which, although the people in the street could not hear, was plain to those who stood on the balcony. He thanked the people for supporting him. He remarked that he had come there a stranger, and was now their friend. He declared that his duty was no longer to a part but the whole of the voters, that he should recognise no difference between one section of the people and another. It was for him to represent the town as a whole, which he intended to do faithfully and loyally. He desired, also, to compliment his opponent on the spirit in which he had conducted his part of the battle, and for the straight fight which had been the consequence. He referred to a few of his most prominent supporters, and then, raising his voice so loudly that it reached to the extreme limits of the crowd, he said: "It may seem bad taste on my part to refer to one without whom I should never have won this election." At this even the most turbulent became silent again, they wanted to hear what he had to say. "I owe my victory," he said, "and you owe your victory, to my daughter, Mary." And placing his hand upon her shoulder, he drew her forward. "Here!" he cried, "is your real victor in the battle!"

There was great cheering at this, and even his bitterest opponents did not resent it. The light fell strongly upon the girl's face, and even Paul could not help reflecting how beautiful she looked. Her eyes were flashing with excitement, her lips wreathed with smiles. No wonder she had fascinated him, no wonder, in spite of the fact that he hated her father, he almost worshipped her, even while he hated her.