"Yes, I suppose so," replied Paul.

"And I doubt if any two chaps, beginning as we did, have had such success as we have had."

"Perhaps not," said Paul, "but we've not had enough yet. I've got a scheme in my mind which I want to talk with you about, Preston."

"You're always full of schemes," replied the other.

"Yes but have they not turned out well?" was the answer.

"Ay, I know," was the reply. "But sometimes I've felt as though we have been walking on eggs. I never thought, twelve months ago, that I should have dared to launch out so! Why, man, think of our liabilities!"

"Yes," replied Paul, "but think of our success, too; think of our a.s.sets! As you say, we've had a big year, but we must have a bigger next year, and big years are not got by nibbling at things. We've got this place for three months longer. At the end of that time we must clear out."

"Clear out!"

"Ay, clear out. A hundred looms are no use to us now. We must multiply them by eight."

"Why, Paul, you must be mad!"

"No, I've gone into it all. Mind you, this is no speculation which I have in my mind. It may seem like it, but I have calculated everything to a nicety. I've made inquiries at the bank, and I know to a penny how we stand, and what the bank will back us for. And I've been making inquiries about Thorncliffe Mill."

Preston looked at Paul as though he had doubts about his sanity.

"Thorncliffe Mill," he replied. "Why, it's one of the biggest places in Brunford!"

"I mean not only to have one of the biggest places, but the biggest place," said Paul. And although he did not mention the fact to Preston, he knew that his new-found ambition was a.s.sociated with the meeting of Mr. Bolitho's daughter a year before.

The other event, which happened that day, was entirely different. He had moved into larger rooms, and his surroundings were now more congenial to his taste. It was evident, too, that Paul knew the value of a good tailor, so much so that more than one young manufacturer declared that he was the best-dressed man in Brunford. When Paul returned to his lodgings that night he found four men awaiting him.

Wondering as to what their visit meant, he asked them to sit down, and then waited for them to state their business. One of these men was the secretary of the Weavers' Union, whom we have mentioned earlier in these pages, another was the chairman of the Working Men's League, a powerful political body in the town.

"Well, what is it?" asked Paul, noticing that they hesitated.

"You know, I suppose, that Mr. Carcliffe is resigning? He was returned to Parliament four years ago, but he's had enough of it, it seems."

"Yes, I heard about it," said Paul.

"Well, now's our chance," continued one of the men.

"You mean that you're going to return a working-man?" said Paul.

"Well, I don't know so much about that," was the reply. "But we want to return a man who understands us, who can voice our needs and who has sympathies with our struggles."

"And have you thought of anyone?"

"Ay," replied the other, "we have."

"Who?"

"His name is Paul Stepaside," was the reply. "We've had him in our minds for months. In fact, we've thought of him ever since he went to gaol, in Manchester, a year ago."

To say that Paul was surprised at this proposal is but to suggest the state of his feelings. For years he had had all sorts of romantic ideas as to what the future of his life was to be, and thoughts concerning a parliamentary career were not strange to him. Now, however, that an actual proposal had been made, he could scarcely believe his own ears. Ever since he had come to Brunford he had been interested in political questions, and had been a popular speaker, young as he was, on many political platforms. He remembered the vision he had on the day he came out of prison. He had determined to work and live for these people of Brunford, to ameliorate their woes, and to bring more sunshine into their lives. But to go into Parliament, to take his part in the legislation of the country; to stand face to face with men whose names he held almost in awe, was too wonderful to be true. Still, there were the facts: these men had come to him, telling him that Mr. Carcliffe, the present Member, had either resigned or was going to resign, and suggested to him that when an election came he should fight their battle.

Well, why should he not do it? He was no longer a poor man. It is true his position in the financial world was far from being a safe one, but he had calculated concerning the future with great care, and he believed that in a few years' time his position would be secured. He believed in the cause these men stood for, too, and he could fight their battles wholeheartedly. Above and beyond all this, moreover, was something else which he scarcely dared to put into words. He had not seen the young girl who had so strangely affected him since their meeting in the fields, more than a year before, but the memory of that meeting remained with him. At the back of all his plans for the future was the thought of her, and although he did not know it, he had made up his mind to win her as his wife. The difficulties seemed almost insurmountable. She belonged to a cla.s.s far removed from his own, and he knew by the look on her face that she regarded him with anger, if not with contempt. To her he was an agitator of the worst kind, one who had broken the laws of his country, and had outraged the feelings of her cla.s.s. Through her own father's influence he had been sent to gaol as a criminal, and she would naturally stand by her father's position. Even without this stain upon his life, his case seemed hopeless: he was only a working-man who had "got on," while she was the daughter of a man who stood high in one of the most influential professions. He knew that the doors of the best houses in the land were open to prominent King's Counsels like Mr. Bolitho, while he was a n.o.body. And yet, with that dogged determination by which he had become known in Brunford, he had determined to overcome all difficulties, and to make her love him. He did not see how he was to do it, he did not know her address in London, he did not know how he could see her again; nevertheless, he held by his resolution. There was only one woman in the world to him, and that was one who despised him. Indeed, Paul Stepaside was not sure that he loved her at all. Sometimes he thought he hated her; nevertheless, she dominated his being, she was the goal of his hopes, and in everything he undertook her influence was felt.

Perhaps this was partly the reason why the proposal made to him had such a strong attraction. As a struggling cotton manufacturer he was a n.o.body, but as a young Member of Parliament he would have a position.

The difficulties in the way of his advancement did not daunt him, and he felt sure he could make his name prominent among the legislators of the land.

"Did you say that Mr. Carcliffe had definitely resigned?" he asked.

"Well, he's told the committee that he wants to resign; we know that,"

was the reply. "And there's bound to be a general election in a few months, and he has declared definitely that he'll not stand again."

"Who is the man that the other party are going to nominate in his place?" he asked.

"We don't know yet," was the answer. "But we hear that a meeting is going to be held at Edward Wilson's in a few days. But never mind the other side, Paul; if you'll stand we'll send you to Parliament. We're not going to allow these fine-fingered gentry to have it all their own way. You're our man, and we'll stand by you, as you have stood by us."

Paul did not give them a definite answer that night. He wanted to think about it, he said. All the same, when he bade them "Good-night"

his mind was practically made up, although he did not know it.

CHAPTER V

PAUL'S MADNESS

Howden Clough was a big house standing in its own grounds, some two miles from the town of Brunford. Considering the vicinity, it was a very handsome place of residence. The house itself was of grey stone, and occupied a commanding position. Having been built some two hundred years before, by an old county magnate, the grounds were well matured.

Indeed, Mr. Edward Wilson was envied by his fellow manufacturers for having obtained so desirable a place of residence. The very fact that he lived in a house which had been owned by the Greystones gave him a kind of position, and this, added to his being a rich man, and abundantly able to keep up the place he occupied, gave him a feeling of superiority.

Edward Wilson and his son were sitting together in the room which they called the library, although there were but few evidences of the name being deserved.

"Mr. Bolitho will be here in half an hour," said the father.

"Do you know if he is bringing Mary with him?" asked Ned.

"I am not sure," replied the father. "I have done my best for you, my lad."

"I mean to have her," said the young man. "I never really cared for a girl before, and I shall never care for another. Besides, why is the case hopeless?"

"I mean you shall have her," replied the father. "But you must remember, my lad, that these Bolithos belong to a very old family, and they don't look upon money as everything. We're not county people, and they are, although they visit us as friends. Still, I can buy up half the county people, and I've done my best to persuade him to bring Mary with him. When I was at Mr. Bolitho's house last, I inquired if she had any matrimonial engagement, but as far as I could gather she's still fancy free, so let's hope for the best, Ned."

"What time does the meeting commence?" asked the son.

"Not until nine o'clock," was the reply. "We shall have plenty of time for a smoke and a chat after dinner before those fellows come."

A little later there was a sound of wheels upon the drive. Both father and son rushed to the door, and to their delight they found not only Mr. Bolitho but his daughter as well.

"This is splendid!" cried Mr. Wilson senior. "I was afraid Miss Bolitho would not be able to come. Ah, Emily, here's your friend. We are glad to see you. I am afraid you'll think that Lancashire people are a little rough, but we yield to none in the warmth of our welcome."