ho 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!"