"Yes. You see, I like strong men--that is, I like men who will never be beaten, who know what they want, and who never rest until they get it; men with great purposes, great ambitions. And he's a man who will surely be heard of. Nothing can stop him. I hear he's becoming a rich man, but that will not content him. He's ambitious to take a great place in life. I should not be at all surprised if some day he won a national reputation!"

"Nonsense!" cried Ned. "National reputation, indeed! He might have a national reputation for some great crime, but for nothing else. He has the instincts of his cla.s.s, Miss Bolitho, and I am sorry you were seen walking with him. If I were to tell your father, he'd be angry, too."

Ned knew he was doing himself harm by saying these things, but at that moment his hatred of Paul was increased. He had never dreamt that Mary Bolitho could think of him in such a way. He believed she was interested in him, and that somehow Paul had fascinated her by his presence. Jealousy of him, therefore, was added to the old grudge.

"I am afraid you do not understand, Mr. Wilson. Oh, here's a tram, which will take me a long way towards the house." And without taking any further notice of him, she walked towards the conveyance.

Three weeks later Brunford was again on the tiptoe of excitement.

Again a great crowd had gathered around the town hall, again there was the excitement of counting votes, and this time Paul, to his great delight, found himself Member for Brunford by a big majority. That he was gratified goes without saying. He felt, somehow, that the day brought him nearer the things he longed for. All things seemed possible to him now, and his heart beat high with joy. It is true, Ned Wilson bad done his best to defeat him, but this time he had been powerless. He was unable to use the methods he had used on the previous occasion, and while he had resurrected the old stories concerning Paul's parentage, they had apparently done the young man no harm. Paul was delighted, too, with the conduct of his opponent. The Honourable Stephen Boston had been true to his word. He had fought the battle fairly and with a sportsman's spirit, and when the results were announced no man in Brunford was more cordial towards the new Member than the defeated candidate.

"I did my best to lick you, Stepaside," he said, when all the noise and excitement was over. "But you were too strong for me. All the same, I congratulate you. You have fought a good fight, and you'll be heard about in the country yet. When you come to London, I hope we shall see more of each other, and it may be I can introduce you to some people whom you would like to know."

It was long after midnight at this time, and they had met with a number of men at a kind of social club which had no political bias. The leading people of the town were there, and Paul also noticed that Ned Wilson was among them. He fancied he had been drinking heavily. His eyes were bloodshot, and his voice was loud and truculent.

"It's good of you to say so," said Paul. "And never do I want to fight with a fairer opponent. I hope that neither of us will ever be able to think of this election with a shadow of regret."

"Yes, but Brunford will!" interposed Wilson.

"Nay, nay, Ned," remarked someone near. "Hold your tongue. It's no use probing old wounds now."

"I say Brunford will!" shouted Ned, heedless of the other's warning.

"The time will come when it will be ashamed of what it's done to-day.

For my own part, I think I will move out of the town. Politics have become a dirty business now, when a nameless vagrant can become a Member of Parliament. Still, we know the old adage, 'Give a beggar a horse----'"

Paul did not speak. For one thing, he was in a great good humour. He had been victorious and could afford to forgive Wilson for all he had done. Besides, he remembered the last quarrel they had had in a public place, and he did not want another scene now. But Wilson was evidently bent upon a quarrel. He was deeply chagrined at the other's victory, and this, added to the whisky he had been drinking, made him more than ordinarily quarrelsome.

"If I had my way," he went on, "none but those of honourable birth, and whose parentage was respectable, should legislate for a country like this. As for this fellow's parentage----" And then he gave a sneering laugh.

"Be quiet, now, Ned! Do be quiet! You'll get into trouble presently.

"Trouble!" cried the other. "I'm going to say my say. Why, if the fellow had any sense of shame, he would at least have kept his mother out of the town." And then he uttered words which I will not write down--words which, had Paul's mother heard them, would have made her long to fly the town.

This proved too much for Paul. Insults hurled at himself he did not mind, but for such words to be uttered about his mother in a place like this was beyond endurance. With a face as pale as ashes, and a voice hoa.r.s.e with pa.s.sion, he strode towards Wilson. "You dare not repeat those words!" he said, scarcely knowing what was pa.s.sing his lips.

"Repeat!" said Wilson. "I shall repeat what I like, and sc.u.m like you shall never stop me. Who are you that you should dare to be here among gentlemen? You may have been elected by the riff-raff of the town, but that does not hinder you from being what you are--a workhouse brat. It does not hinder your mother from being----" And again he uttered words which I will not write down.

Paul forgot where he was now. The day's election, his longing to keep away from vulgar quarrels, all his ambitions became forgotten in the pa.s.sion of the moment. A second later Ned Wilson was lying on the floor, blood flowing from his mouth. A blow from Paul had laid him prostrate, almost senseless. What Paul would have done to him, I do not know, but he was held back by many strong arms. "No, no, Stepaside," men said. "This is a bad beginning for your new career.

If this gets out in the town, and it's almost bound to----"

"I don't care," interrupted Paul. "No man could hear what he has said without resenting it. Let me go, I tell you!"

By this time Wilson had risen. The blow, while it had partially stunned him, had also to some extent sobered him. For a few seconds the two men looked at each other, each with great pa.s.sion in his eyes.

"Remember," said Wilson, "I'll pay you out for this! By G.o.d! I'll pay you for this! You and I have had our knives in each other for a long time, and I have always got the better of you, and I will again, in spite of this!" And he left the club with a look of murder in his eyes.

Paul also left immediately after. In spite of his day's victory, he was heartily ashamed of what he had done, and yet the mad anger in his heart caused by what Wilson had said kept him from regretting the blow he had struck.

"He is right," said one of the men who had witnessed the affair.

"He'll pay thee out for this, Paul. Ned Wilson is a chap that never forgives, never forgets."

"If it comes to paying out," said Paul, "I've a bigger score than he has, and he'll always find me ready."

"It serves him jolly well right," said the Honourable Stephen Boston.

"I wonder Stepaside did not kill him! I know I would if anyone said such a thing to me! All the same, I am sorry it has taken place. Had I known Wilson was here I would not have asked Stepaside to join us."

When Paul reached his home he found his mother sitting up for him. She met him with a look of joy in her eyes. "Paul," she said, "they've brought me the news."

"What news, mother?" he asked.

"The news of your victory, my son. It's glorious! I little thought when I saw you first that I should ever live to see such an hour as this. But what's the matter with you?"

"What should be the matter?" he asked.

"You're as pale as ashes, and you do not look like one who has won a great victory. What has happened?"

"Oh, never mind," he replied.

"But I must mind, Paul. Something has taken place that has upset you.

Tell me what it is."

Even yet Paul was scarcely master of himself. The words he had heard still rang in his ears and rankled in his heart. He felt as though all the joy of the day had been destroyed by what Wilson had said. He knew, too, that it would become public property by the morrow. There were those who witnessed the affair who would not be slow in making it known. Perhaps, too, it would come to his mother's ears in a garbled fashion, and would wound her more than if he told her himself.

"Has the man Bolitho done anything?" she said. "Or is it your opponent? Was he terribly cut up because you beat him, Paul?"

"No," he replied. "I've never heard of Bolitho, and as for Boston, he's a splendid fellow. He took his beating like a man and offered me his friendship afterwards."

"Then what is it? Is the news I've heard, that Wilson is engaged to Miss Bolitho, true?"

"Have you heard that?"

"Yes; I have heard it only to-day."

"I wish I had killed him!" he said, and his voice was hoa.r.s.e and unnatural.

"What do you mean, Paul? Tell me what has happened."

Had he not been excited beyond measure, he would have told the story in such a way as to take away the sting from it. As it was, never dreaming of the results, he related what had taken place, and repeated the words Wilson had said. No sooner had he spoken, however, than he was mad with himself for being so unguarded. His mother's face became drawn with agony. Her eyes shone with a strange light, and he saw her clench and unclench her hands like one in great pain.

"Did he say that?" she cried. "Did he say that?" And he scarcely recognised her voice.

"Anyhow, he's suffering for it," said Paul. "Ay, and he shall suffer for it, too."

"He shall! He shall!" And her voice almost rose to a shriek. "I have violent blood in my veins, Paul. Back in the old days my people would have only been content to wipe out such an insult in blood, and I will make him suffer for it!"

"I am sorry I told you, mother," said Paul. "I was a fool to do so; but I did not think, I did not remember!"

"I am glad you have told me!" was her reply. "I know now what I have to do. I have been so happy that I was almost forgetting; but I will not forget now! And that man is your enemy, too. He means to marry Mary Bolitho, and he will, too, unless, unless--Paul, you needn't fear!

I tell you, you needn't fear." And after that she would not speak another word.