The Day of Judgment Part 21

Your enemies are my enemies; your friends are my friends! Those you love, I love; and those you hate, I hate! Whether you're right or whether you're wrong, my laddie, I love you!"

"Who ever I love, mother," he said, "it makes no difference between me and you, and my home must ever be yours."

"Ay, I dinna ken about that," she replied, lapsing into the speech of her girlhood. "But that doesna matter. Paul, I must see thy la.s.s.

You must find out when next she comes to Brunford, and I must see her.

And you shall have her, too; whatever stands in the way must be removed!"

A little later he kissed her good-night at her bedroom door, and her words seemed to him like a prophecy.

CHAPTER IX

THE SHADOWS OF COMING EVENTS

For the next few weeks Paul's life was utterly changed. The coming of his mother had wrought a transformation, and in a very real sense old things had pa.s.sed away, and all things had become new. Each morning he went to his work with a glad heart, and when the time for returning came he looked forward to meeting her with a joy unknown to him before.

He had insisted on taking her to Manchester, and, in spite of many protests, had bought her what she called finery only fit for a la.s.s.

But Paul had taken a peculiar pleasure in this. He loved to see her eyes sparkle at some unexpected act of kindness on his part, and as day by day pa.s.sed away and he marked the improvement in her looks, saw the lines of care wiped out and an expression of contentment come on her face, more genial feelings filled his life. As he repeated to himself often, "I have a home and a mother now," and the fact made even the dirty town in which he lived seem like a paradise. He was glad, too, to take business friends to his new home, and noticed with the keenest pleasure that they regarded his mother with cordiality and respect. So great was the change that came over him that for a time he grew careless about discovering the man who had caused such a dark shadow to fall upon her life long years before. It seemed for a time as though the past were obliterated, and that he had begun a new chapter of his life. His business prospered, and all anxiety in that direction seemed to be removed far from him.

In spite of all this, however, there was still a dull ache in his heart, a feeling that something was wanting in his life. He had not forgotten Mary Bolitho. He knew he never should. Never since the day after the election had he seen her in Brunford, and he often wondered what this might mean. Whether Ned Wilson ever saw her or not he had no idea, but, from the fact that Ned was often away from home, he feared that such was the case. Never, since he had discovered who was responsible for the circular issued at the time of the election, had he made any remarks about it. It was never referred to even between himself and his partner. Paul remembered it, however, and there were those in the town who, when they learnt the truth, said one to another, "Ay, Stepaside will pay Wilson out for that! He's noan the chap to let a thing like that bide!"

Mr. Bolitho himself had visited the town only once since the election.

He had on this occasion accompanied a Cabinet Minister, who spoke on the political situation, in the biggest hall in the town--but Paul had not gone to hear him. He heard that the new Member was not accompanied by his daughter, and then all interest in his visit had ceased. And so the months pa.s.sed away, until more than a year had elapsed since the counting of the votes in the Town Hall.

Meanwhile, Paul constantly appeared in the town with his mother, and to his delight she received invitations from some of the most important people in Brunford. Not that she accepted these invitations, but Paul's joy was very great, nevertheless, because he saw it gave her satisfaction, and because he felt that it eased the burden of her life.

To Ned Wilson he never spoke. They met in various ways and at various places, but they ignored each other completely. This was naturally remarked upon by the people in the town, and many prophesied that the time would come when an open rupture would take place between these two men.

"You see," said one old weaver, when the matter was being discussed, "Paul's noan religious. He believes i' nowt--not but what he's a good lad, but his heart is closed to faith. He has no anchor anywhere, and when a man has noan of the grace of G.o.d in his heart he's hard.

Onything may happen."

The autumn that his mother came he was invited to stand as a councillor for one of the wards in the borough. But this he declined. He was glad he had received this invitation, because it gave his mother joy, but the memory of his failure during the political contest still remained with him. He felt he could not be satisfied with the lesser when he had been refused the greater.

"No, mother," he said when he told her what had happened. "I'm not going to do this. I mean to be Member for Brunford, and if I take on this work it would stand in my way."

"You've never forgotten that la.s.s, Paul?" said his mother.

"No, and I never shall!"

"You're not much of a lover," she said, looking towards him with a wistful smile.

"What do you mean, mother?"

"I mean," she said, "that if I were a lad and had made up my mind to win a la.s.s, I would do it. I wouldn't stay away from her! If you love her, Paul, tell her so. She'll think none the less of you!"

"How can I?" he asked. "I don't know where she lives."

"And have never taken the trouble to find out!" was his mother's retort. "I tell you, my boy, no la.s.s that ever lived thinks more of a lad for staying in the background. You don't know what Wilson's doing!"

"No," replied Paul. "But I do not think she has promised him anything; in fact, I am sure she has not. I saw him only to-day, and if she had promised him, he would not look as he did look! All the same, I feel as though my lips were sealed, mother! If I went to her now she would scorn me, and I couldn't bear that. No, I must wait my time, and when that time comes neither Wilson nor anyone else shall stand in my way!"

"If she could see you two together," replied his mother fondly, "there's not the slightest doubt as to which she would choose!"

"Nonsense, mother!" said Paul with a laugh, and yet her words cheered him in spite of himself.

"I'm not so old, my boy, but what I know what a la.s.s feels, and what she likes!"

"I'm n.o.body yet," said Paul. "I'm only just a beginner, and Wilson is one of the richest men in Brunford."

"If she is worth having, Paul, she won't think so much about that! I went to the kirk last Sunday where Wilson goes, and I saw him. I tell you he is not one that a la.s.s would take to if she knew you cared for her. But if you don't speak, well, there----"

"I hear she's coming to Brunford soon," said Paul presently.

His mother looked up eagerly. "Coming to Brunford?" she asked.

"Yes," replied Paul. "She's coming on a visit to the Wilsons'. My partner, George Preston, told me. It seems that his mother's servant is friendly with one of the maids up at Howden Clough. That's how he got to know."

The mother looked at her son for a few seconds with a strange expression in her eyes. It was easy to see how she loved him, and how her heart went out in strong desire to bring him happiness. She did not seem at all jealous that he should love anyone beside her, her one thought seemed to be how to bring him joy.

"You must meet her, Paul!" she said. "You must meet her!"

"Ay, that's very likely," he laughed bitterly. "But what's the good?

She would never think of me, I am nameless!"

He was sorry the moment he had spoken, for he knew he had not only wounded his mother, he had aroused in her heart feelings which he had hoped were dying out.

"You have heard nothing more?" she said, and her voice was hard and almost hoa.r.s.e.

"No, mother," he replied. "I seem to be met by a blank wall everywhere. I have made every inquiry in my power, and, as I told you, I went to Scotland in the hope that I should be able to get at the truth, but I learnt nothing--nothing! If he's alive he's somewhere in hiding; he's afraid of what will take place--because the marriage is clear enough, at least, in my mind."

"But in the eyes of the law, Paul?" she asked eagerly.

"Ay, even in the eyes of the law," he replied. "If I could find him, I could face him with what you both wrote in that book in the old inn.

Both the man and the woman are still alive, and they had no doubt about it. But I cannot find him. I've tried, and, as these Lancas.h.i.+re people say, 'better tried.' I sometimes think we'll have to give it up!"

The woman rose to her feet and came towards him like one in anger.

"Paul," she said, "never hint at such a thing again. For myself it doesn't matter. Everyone here calls me Mrs. Stepaside, and there are but few who ask questions about my marriage, although I know it's been talked about. But there is you to consider. Stepaside is not your real name. It is the name of a hamlet, the place where I fell down, thinking and hoping and almost praying that I should die. It's a name of disgrace. It was given to you because the workhouse master could think of nothing else. And I should never rest in my grave thinking that you did not possess your rights! We must find him, Paul. We must make him do you justice, ay, and make him suffer, too, as I have suffered!"

"Have you not forgotten or forgiven yet?" he asked, almost startled by the look on his mother's face.

"Forgotten, forgiven!" And it did not seem to be like her voice at all. "Never, while I have a brain to think or a heart to feel!

Forgiven! As I said, for myself it does not matter, although for many a month I was in h.e.l.l! But I can never forget the injury he has done to you--you who were branded in the village where you were reared as a come-by-chance child, a workhouse brat, reared, upon the rates, a burden to the paris.h.!.+ Can I forgive that, while perhaps he--he may have married again."

"Perhaps he did not," said Paul. "Perhaps he sent that man to your old home to inquire because, after all, he was caring for you!"

"What's that?" cried the woman angrily. "To send to inquire! Did he follow the steps I took? If he cared for me, if he were faithful to his promise, he would have traced me to Cornwall. He would never give up seeking for me until he had found me or discovered the truth about me. No, Paul, we must make him pay for it, we must! And don't ever hint about giving it up again. I've had a feeling lately that I'm going to find him, and when I do--when I do----"

And Paul saw that his mother's eyes burned red. She seemed to have lost control over herself entirely. "I have plans even now," she went on presently.