"Chances? I should think there are!" replied Wadge. "Why, think of our Mechanics' Inst.i.tute. We have more than a thousand students there.

They all come of an evening, after work, and they pay next to nothing for their lessons; but I've known lots of them who have got on so well that they have been able to go to Owens College at Manchester--even taken degrees. And there is no end to the possibilities for the chap who has taken a degree."

Paul had only a vague idea of what this might mean, but he knew it meant something of importance, and his heart beat quickly at the thought of it. Still, the idea of Lancashire did not appeal to him.

He felt sure that Douglas Graham would be in London, and, after all, London was the great heart of things. It was there all these big men went, and it was there, he felt sure, his work lay. Nevertheless, he went on asking Wadge many questions about life in the big towns of Lancashire, and more and more became enamoured by the thought of going there.

"Look here," continued Wadge presently, "I have got a copy of the _Brunford Mercury_ where I am staying, and I'll lend it you. You can see then what's going on."

A few hours later Paul was perusing the journal he had been promised.

At first he was disappointed. After all, there did not seem to be anything much more attractive going on in Brunford than in Cornwall.

The _West Briton_ was, as far as he could see, a more interesting paper. Presently, however, his heart gave a leap. He saw that a law case of some sort had been going on in Manchester, and as the counsel for one of the parties, he saw the name of "G. D. Graham." At first he could scarcely believe his own eyes. He did not realise that there might be hundreds of Grahams, many of whom might be barristers. With his small parochial ideas, there could be only one Graham who could occupy such a position--and Manchester was only a few miles from Brunford. Of course all the barristers could not live in London.

There must be many all over the country, and Graham lived there. A strange feeling filled his heart; he felt sure he had found his father, the man who had wronged his mother, who had blighted her life. Again the picture of her as he saw her last flashed back to his mind, the care-worn, tired, sad-looking woman whom he loved as his mother; and she was going back to servitude, to misery, and all this because of the man who had deceived her, ruined her life. He had taken her as his wife, and then written her that cruel, insulting letter, and left her to the scorn and mercilessness of a hard world. And he would see him.

If he lived in Manchester he would be employed for other cases. It would be easy to find out all about them, and he could go there and watch. He realised that he could do nothing while he was ignorant.

Perhaps this G. D. Graham was a great man by now, and he would deny all knowledge of what he had done; therefore he must find out, he must prepare himself, and he could only do that through getting a knowledge of the world, a knowledge of law, a knowledge of men.

This decided him. He remembered what Wadge had said about the Mechanics' Inst.i.tute, and about working-lad students belonging to Owens College and obtaining University degrees. Of course that must mean knowledge, and knowledge was power. So much he had learnt, at all events, at the night-school where he had attended.

He counted up his money, of which he had been very saving, and determined to leave Cornwall at once, and shortly after Christmas he found himself in the train bearing him northward. He had never been out of Cornwall before, and his heart beat high with hope. New scenes, new experiences, new modes of life and thought, a new world--and he was going to enter it! It was on a Monday morning that he started on his journey, and it was dark when he left the little village of St. Mabyn, carrying in his hand a portmanteau which contained all his earthly possessions. It was several miles to the nearest railway station, but that did not trouble him at all. Young and strong as he was, a five-mile walk was nothing, and he found it no hardship to get up in the cold, dark morning in order to catch the first train, northward.

He did not arrive in Manchester until late that night, and then found that the last train for Brunford had left some time before he came.

Like all lads country-reared, he had heard about the dangers of big towns, of thieves, of midnight murder--and Manchester frightened him.

He could not understand it at all, and in his ignorance and fear he shrunk from asking questions.

"You'll go to some pub., I suppose?" said a porter who had told him about the last train to Brunford.

"I don't know," said Paul.

"But you must, man. You can't stay out all night. It's cold, too.

Will you have a cab?"

"I don't know where to go," said Paul. "Can you tell me of a respectable place?"

But before the porter could answer, someone else claimed his attention, and Paul was left alone. He took his bag and looked around, then, seeing the notice, "Left Luggage Office," he acted upon impulse, and left his portmanteau there, after which he went out into the streets.

He had missed the connection at Bristol, and, the later train having been delayed, it was now past ten o'clock. He had bought some sandwiches on his way, so he did not feel hungry. But he was terribly depressed and lonely. The traffic of the city was subsiding somewhat, but still the rush and roar of the great northern metropolis stunned and bewildered him. Presently he came to the Town Hall, which stood in a great square not far from the station. Around him were trams, cabs, and a hurrying mult.i.tude of people. This was life--life in a great city! It was utterly different from what he had expected; and it was bitterly cold. A damp fog hung over the city, the air was depressing, and the streets were black with slimy mud. Still, the thought that more than half a million of people were around him was wonderful to him. He was in the heart of the manufacturing North, where poor friendless boys had risen to position and power. That Town Hall stood for something--stood for the government of this great metropolis. It seemed to him that London could be nothing compared with this, and in his ignorance he felt as though Manchester were the centre of the world. He wandered on and on, pa.s.sing through St. Anne's Square until he came to Market Street. Here all was a blaze of light, even although the crowd had largely departed. It was all fascinating, bewildering.

He felt strangely afraid, and he did not know what to do. A tram stopped just in front of him, and he noticed the words, "Rusholme, Oxford Road." And, again acting on impulse, he entered the tram. A few minutes later the conductor came to him.

"Where do you want to go?" he asked.

Paul had not the slightest idea, and looked at him in a kind of dazed way.

"Where do you want to get out?" went on the conductor. "We only go as far as the tramway shed at Rusholme. Do you want to go as far as that, or where?"

"I don't know," said Paul. "Where do we pa.s.s?"

"Why, we go up Oxford Road, and pa.s.s Owens College."

"That's it," cried Paul eagerly; "I want to get out at Owens College."

The conductor eyed him curiously, but he was a man of large experience, and took very little notice of the vagaries of his pa.s.sengers.

"Here you are," he said at length, as the tram stopped. "This is Owens College."

Paul got out, and the tram went on. He looked at the great building like one spell-bound. He had heard, in a vague sort of way, that this was the head-quarters of the Victoria University. He did not know much as to what this meant, but it appealed to him, captivated him. It was the centre of learning--knowledge. Here men taught the knowledge that meant power, progress, achievement. It was not quite so foggy here as in the heart of the city, and the moon did its best to pierce the clouds, and in its pale light Paul could see something of the proportions of this great centre of learning. He wandered around it, and noted what he supposed were the various departments of education.

He almost forgot where he was; he did not heed the lapse of time. This was Owens College! It seemed to him the heart of the universe, the centre of the world of knowledge, and he would go there some day, he would learn things; and before his eyes flashed a vision of a brilliant future. What others had done he could do. It meant work; but what of that? He loved it. It meant suffering; but then he had never known anything else.

Presently he found himself in Oxford Road again, and then, like one in a dream, he tramped back to the centre of the city. He had been travelling from early morning, but he felt no weariness. Manchester was the city of dreams. By the time he had got back to Market Street again the streets were deserted, save for a few late stragglers. The trams had ceased running, the theatres had emptied themselves while he had been away, and only an occasional vehicle pa.s.sed him. All through the night he wandered through the dark, murky streets, and as he did so the mystery of it all, the wonder of it all, filled his heart. Yes, he was in a new world, and in this new world were new thoughts, new modes of life. In after-years Paul recalled the experiences of that night; it seemed to him that it marked a new era in his life. Especially did he feel this as again and again he came to the Town Hall. The place had a strong attraction for him, because it was here he believed that the G. D. Graham of whom he had read had defended the man who, as it appeared to him, was guilty of a crime. More than one policeman noticed him as he stood there looking at its lofty towers and listening for the deep tones of the bell which told of the pa.s.sing time. But no one molested him; he was respectably dressed, and did not appear to be a suspicious character. Strange to say, the squalor, the misery, the poverty did not impress him: it was the size, the wondrousness, and the vast avenues of life, which the city suggested, that appealed to his mind.

Early in the morning he found himself at the Central Station again, where, having obtained his bag, he made his way towards Victoria Station and caught the early train for Brunford.

By the time he had reached Haslingden the grey light of morning revealed the dreary scenes through which he pa.s.sed. He wished he had stayed in Manchester. The district through which he pa.s.sed seemed nothing but a procession of dreary houses, built apparently without thought of order or architecture. He saw stunted men and pale-faced girls with shawls over their heads as if on their way to their work.

He heard the clatter of their iron-ringed clogs on the hard paving-stones. Here was a new life indeed, but there was no romance.

It was all sordid, grimy. Still he must go on, and presently, when the porter shouted the word, "Brunford," he got out of the train feeling that his new life had really commenced.

CHAPTER III

PAUL IS SENT TO PRISON

The next few years of Paul Stepaside's life must be described somewhat briefly, although they were not without importance. They were the formative period of the young man's history and naturally shaped his whole future. Habits of thought were formed, and the tendencies of his boyhood were hardened and fashioned by the circ.u.mstances which surrounded him. Consequently, the pa.s.sing from youth to manhood, with all its shaping, moulding forces, is doubtless the most vital in the life of any man. Nevertheless there is not much to say about them, as only a few outstanding events happened to him. The development of his character went on, but that development was silent and almost unnoticed by those with whom he came into contact. Still, there were certain things of which cognisance must be taken, because not only did they affect his future but they formed a part of the chain of events which led to the tragic issues which presently evolved.

His first few days in Brunford were not happy ones. The life of a busy manufacturing town was utterly different from that of St. Mabyn. The long rows of ugly houses, the black, slimy streets, the smoke-begrimed atmosphere, the roar of machinery, and the life of the operatives, all made him feel that here was a new world indeed! It seemed to him harsh, sordid, ugly, and more than once he longed for the clear skies, the green fields, and the quiet restfulness of his old Cornish home.

Nevertheless it had its compensations. He was at the heart of a great, busy, manufacturing centre, and the life there could not help but be educational in the highest degree. He had no difficulty in finding work. A loom manufacturer took him on for a few days to give him a trial, and then, finding that Paul was skilful with his blacksmithing tools, he engaged him as one of his permanent hands. He obtained lodgings near the centre of the town, with an old couple who took quite an interest in him. They were Methodists, and, learning that Paul was acquainted with a minister who had formerly been in the Brunford circuit, felt quite at home with him. This led, moreover, to his being visited by the minister of Hanover Chapel, who took a great interest in him, notwithstanding Paul's unconcealed contempt for anything like religious influences. The legacy which his mother had left him seemed to close up all those avenues of life and thought. His programme was clearly marked out, and in order to carry it through, everything must become subservient to it. His trade, the earning of wages, were merely means to an end, and that end he constantly kept before his eyes.

First he must become educated; he must have knowledge--knowledge sufficient to enable him to fulfil the purpose which was born in his mind on the night he met his mother on the Altarnun Moors. If he could satisfy his ambitions, so much the better; but he determined that nothing should stand in the way of his carrying out the grim resolution which was the great purpose for which he lived.

He had not been in Brunford many months when he saw in the _Manchester Guardian_ an account of a trial which was being conducted in that city, and noticed that the leading counsel was G. D. Graham, the name which had determined him to come to Brunford. He had made up his mind that this man was his father. He knew he had very insufficient data on which to go; nevertheless, it became a sort of fixed idea with him.

But he determined to make sure, and so, obtaining leave from his work, he started one morning to Manchester, in order to be present at the trial which was attracting some notice in the county. It was with a grim sort of feeling in his heart that he entered the Manchester Law Courts and climbed the steps leading to the room wherein the trial was being held.

"I shall know him," he said to himself, "know him among a thousand!"

He did not seem to consider that this visit would lead to anything; he only wanted to see the man who had blackened his mother's life. The justice chamber was very full as he entered it, and he could not help being impressed by the scene before him. The judge, with his legal robes and his formidable-looking wig, sitting grave and stern on his seat of eminence; the eager faces of the barristers; the watchful eyes of the solicitors; the important look on the faces of the twelve jurymen who sat huddled in a kind of square box; the anxious face of the man who stood in the witness-box giving evidence; all appealed to the young fellow's imagination, and caused his pulses to throb violently. So great was the impression made upon him that for the moment he almost forgot the purpose for which he came. This was life indeed, and the work of making looms appeared to him as a kind of sordid drudgery. The ambitions which had lain smouldering in his heart for a long time sprang into flame again, and he determined that, while he saw no chance of his being a judge, or even like one of the barristers who sat around the table beneath the judge's bench, he at least could become prominent in the great busy life of the world. The case itself, too, cast a kind of spell upon him; he listened eagerly to the questions that were being asked, and as he caught the meaning of the things for which these men were fighting, the picture of his mother's sorrows became less real and less vital. But this was not for long. Presently one of the counsel rose to address the jury, and there was a kind of flutter among the spectators as he did so.

"Yon's Graham," he heard a man say by his side, and then the purport of his coming to Manchester laid hold of him.

"Which is Graham?" he asked of the man.

"Yon man who has just got on his feet," was the reply. "He's a rare 'un, is Graham. I wouldn't like 'im to cross-examine me! You'll see, he'll tear t'other chap's case all to flitters!"

Paul turned his eyes towards the barrister in question, and then, he could not tell why, but his heart became like lead. This was not the man he had come to see. It was true he could not see the colour of his hair, because It was hidden by his barrister's wig, but the face was different from any he had ever seen in his dreams. The eyes were dark and piercing, the features were almost cla.s.sical. No, this was not the man who had robbed his mother of her youth and of her beauty. After this he took only an academical interest in the proceedings. He still remained interested in the case, but only as a case; and the man Graham was only a name to him. This fact altered his outlook for a time.

Hitherto he had fancied he knew where he might find the man whom he called his enemy, but now he did not know; and, as a consequence, everything became different. Not that he troubled much. He never meant to try to do anything until he was ready. Somehow he knew that when he set himself to struggle against the man he hated, the battle would be long and hard; therefore he must be prepared; and he was not ready yet--he had only just begun. That was why he did not trouble to find him. When the time came he would surely have no difficulty in discovering his whereabouts. Still, the visit to Manchester was not without its effects. He saw a new vision of life, and that vision made him discontented with being a mere operative. He would not, in the future, be one who was led--he would be a leader.

When he returned to Brunford, therefore, he worked harder than ever.

He took cla.s.ses at the Mechanics' Inst.i.tute, and spent all his spare time in study. By the time he was twenty Paul Stepaside could have matriculated at the London University; but he never thought of doing so. After all, what was pa.s.sing examinations? It was a mere knowledge of certain specified subjects, and he felt that these would not enable him to perform the great work which he had set himself to do.

Paul was naturally greatly influenced by the life of the town in which he lived. Brunford was a huge manufacturing centre, and was typical of its cla.s.s. The minds of the people were keenly alive, especially to those questions which, as they believed, affected their welfare. All sorts of socialistic schemes were discussed eagerly, and before long Paul was keenly interested in them. He found that the town was a very Mecca of revolutionary thoughts concerning the accepted order of things. There were many who were of the "down-with-everything" order.

They did not believe in kings or governments, and although their anarchism was of a mild order, there were some who proclaimed it with such enthusiasm that Paul for a time was influenced by it. Others there were who did not believe in private ownership of property, and advocated that everything should be taken over by the State. There were also several atheistic societies in the town, and before long Paul found himself standing at street corners listening to orators who proclaimed that there was no G.o.d, that man had no soul, that there was no future life, and that Christianity was a great organised fraud. In opposition to this, on the other hand, there were many who held the wildest opinions about religion. Every conceivable sect seemed to be represented in the town. Seventh-Day Adventists, Spiritualists, Theosophists, Christadelphians, and innumerable others, claimed to have the exclusive possession of the Truth.

For a time he was influenced by all these contradictory views, but presently his strong common sense a.s.serted itself, and he began to laugh at the fallacies which first of all fascinated him. Nevertheless the life of Brunford influenced him greatly, and his whole intellectual outlook was coloured by what he saw and heard. As a working man he naturally allied himself with the working cla.s.ses, even although he did not share many of their views, and by the time he was a little over one-and-twenty he began to be regarded as a leader. He became an adept in public speaking too, and the announcement that he was to be present at a meeting was almost sure to draw a crowd. He ceased attending any place of worship, and indeed the incipient atheism of his earlier years seemed to settle into a kind of general unbelief in anything spiritual or supernatural.