ad she to do with a Lancashire operative
who, because he was possessed of a kind of vulgar aggressiveness, had
become an employer of labour?

The scene in the chamber where the votes were counted, however,
strengthened the uncomfortable feelings which had hitherto possessed
her. He had openly accused her father of encouraging means which he
regarded as disgraceful. He had declared that Mr. Bolitho had used
these methods by which to destroy him. Of course, she could not help
being offended, if not angry, at Paul Stepaside's demeanour and at his
almost savage attack. She reflected that he was guilty of the conduct
of a clown, and attributed it not only to his own savagery, but to the
instincts of his class. And yet she was impressed by his strength.
She almost admired him, as he savagely proclaimed the fact that he
would yet be Member for Brunford. She felt his strength, too, and saw
how he moved the multitude. Yes, in spite of everything, he was a
strong man, and she loved strength. He had the instincts of a leader,
and she admired men who could lead. And he was right, too--he was not
crushed, although he was beaten, and he would fight again.

She was very silent at Howden Clough when they all returned from the
gathering at the club. Everyone was jubilant except her, and although
she was interested in all that was said, there was a strange feeling at
her heart which she could not understand. She had a kind of fear, too,
that Ned Wilson was on the point of making an avowal of his love, and
for that reason she had determined that nothing should keep her from
leaving Brunford on the morrow. Her father, however, had arranged to
stay in the town until late in the afternoon, and she must perforce
stay with him. But she determined to be alone, and that was why she
found herself out in the fields at the back of Howden Clough when Paul
was returning from his visit to old Abel Bowyer. She did not mean to
speak to him, and yet she instinctively walked more slowly as he
approached. In spite of herself, too, she found herself admiring him.
He gave no suggestion of a beaten man. His step was firm and quick,
and he walked almost like a victor.

Paul, scarcely knowing what he was doing, lifted his hat as he came
close to her. "Miss Bolitho," he said, "will you convey a message to
your father from me?"

She had meant to pass by without speaking, but the manner in which he
addressed her made this impossible.

"If yo