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[PUBLISHED BY SPKCIAL AKBANGEMENT.] THE FORtilT OF LIF BY J. MONK FOSTKR, Author of "A Pit-Brow Lassie," The King," Slaves of Fate," The Watchman of Orsden Moss," In Red Snow Written, Judith Saxon," The Queen ot the Factory," &e., &c. COPYRIGHT. Thus at the flaming forge oflifo Our fortunes must be wrougli And on its sounding anvil S"^P .■ Each burning deed and ^(^frFELLOW. ,,NR PENTONMOOB. CHAVTF.B XXIV.-THE MEMBER FOB OF THE One evenine, a few days ft^e.^ \ventworth and his Crellins to Pentonmoor, Mr Russe' piece of intel- good ladv received a somewhat pleasanwere just sitting ligenee. The father, mother, and was handed down to dinner when a telegraph III t wll0 announced to the Ironmaster by one of the servh: the telegram was that the messenger who had broug 1 still waiting to see if there J* 0f Moorhurst had In a couple of seconds ths mart wor(,s were found torn away the brown cover, and inside :— M nrhurst, Pentonmoor. Russell-Wentworth, un;mpcachable Have just heard 0f Parliament has been authority that THE diss m0uth of a Cabinet resolved upon. Had 1 to-night even, the Minister. To-morrow pe« P WQRLD MAKE THE news will be flashed all ove^down running at once, and Carsford. W T?ussell-Wentworth said to the There is no that,' and he thrust servant, but give d hallds- Now, Adelaide, kalf-a-crown in the maia l should do. read that, and tell me v. hat v countenance 'Do!' his wife cried, of flimsy paper. 'Need as she ran her eyes over the s p sayS) g0 m at you ask that E^^ftLnt we have waited and worked once and win. I he tim for so patiently has come At once—this very Then it shall be as you aavise. night—I will set to work. < S? going down to the Institute and taking counsel J,vfnend* You, Russell,' to his son, must go with me. And I say, Clements, tell Robinson to have the dog-cart ready for town at eight o clock ^During the hasty meal that followed, the family discussed the new sitntion with some eagerness. Every one of the three was deeply interested in the pending ttrusrgle and they talked of ways and means of winning the contest with the glibness and assurance of old political campaigners. Dozens of persons were mentioned who could be depended upon as influential friends and willing workers; the names and chances of probable opponents were freely ventilated; Russell-Wentworth's own chances of winning the seat were spoken of in a most optimistic Tein; and by the time the Iron-master and his son were rolling swiftly towards the town the elder man's veins were charged with the lust of conquest. At the door of the Workman's Institute the Parlia- mentary aspirant ran against Simon Ellesmere. Instantly Russell-Wentworth button-holed his workman, and as his son passed inside the building he whispered in the other's ear. Just the very man I wished to see, Ellesmere Just got a private wire that a dissolution is pending. So I thought I'd run down and see what you all thought about it. and desired me to do.' That's splendid Simon cried. Glad to hear it. Of course, you must stand. And it's a lucky thing you came, for there's a meeting of the General Committee I in a few minutes, and, if you'll permit me, I should like to have the pleasure of moving you as a candidate.' Thanks Just the thing. Now I must rush away to see some other friends of mine. But I will be back again shortly.' That's right, sir but you must get back here, without fail. at nine.' I will. Now ta-ta for the present.' With that the Ironmaster rushed away to the principal hotel in the town. where he knew he was certain to en- counter sundry of his friends, and Simon Ellesmere, with that quiet smile lurking again about the corners or his mouth and eyes, passed up the steps to whisper in the interested ears of a few cronies that a General Election was immediately forthcoming, and that stirring times would soon be afoot. In h lf-an-hour every member of the Pentonmoor Workman's Institute present that evening was discussing the impending dissolution of Parliament, and the various vices and virtues of the two great State parties, and a few minutes afterwards the Chairman of the club had proposed to a full Committee that their patron and founder, Mr Russell-Wortwortli, was a fit and proper person to represent the workmen and burgesses of Pentonmoor in the House of Commons. That proposition had found ready seconders anfl sup- porters to a man every member of the Committee had joined voices in the chorus to the song of praise Simon Ellesmere bad sung in five minutes more the Iron- master had been enthusiastically adopted as Labour and Independent candidate, and soon the whole place was ringing with Russell-Wentworth's name and good fame. When the President of the Institute ctune on the scene with a few friends at nine the members welcomed him like a conquering hero and when, in a brief, business- like speech, he thanked them for the honour of allowing him to fight in their name, and vowed that he would win against all comers with their aid. and that the workmen of Pentonmoor should never need to be ashamed of their Member in the House, he was acclaimed with the wildest enthusiasm. Next day the world knew that Parliament had come to an end, and in a thousand cities, towns, townships, villages, and hamlets, the impending struggle for place and power was the one toothsome morsel of gossip in all men's mouths. Soon the printers and bill-posters were busy, and the hoardings of England, Ireland, Scotland and Wales spoke eloquently with a myriad and niulti- ooloured tongues of the claims thrice three hundred candidates had—on their own showing—to a seat in the British Commons' House. Mr Russell-Wentworth was one of the earliest in the field, and close upon his heels came a couple of other applicants for the same seat. The better known of these was the former member for the town the other was a brIefless and a8piring barrister sent down by one or another of the big London clubs, where the chief wire- pullers of the party met and ere many days were over public hall, music hall, threatre, schools—even prominent open-air spaces, were set apart for the meetings of the perfervid politicians and their followers. t' From the outset of the campaign the Ironmaster had struck a popular note by decrying all canvassing. At his first meeting he had pledged himself that not a single voter in the borough should be pestered at home or woik oil his behalf, it bis opponents would promise to do the ^But that offer had been flouted by the paid agents and tag-rag and bob-tail of the other parties. And then Russell- Wortworth, his wife, son, friends and workmen, had thrown themselves into the contest with earnes ness and restless vigour. Day after day, t^r many days the Ironmaster and his portly dame paraded the town from effd to end: night after night, for a week or two, àe addressed big meetings, and small gatherings ofelector; and the rapturous welcome he everywhere received p not only of the good opinioH the town had of b.m bu testified also in the most striking way to las own chaises •F winning the vacant seat. Long enough before the polling:daj prophets in the town were t without first, and Coal, andthe Law u"wlu„w t th even any clear, definite programme Ruas( I,1'^i ^0se was ffoin" to ride roughshod over the gentlemen who ample store of promises would have token a century to Will.. flilfiAt home,' Russell-Went worth had said in one of his earliest speeches, 'I have already shown that my philosophy and philanthropy are wide and deep to embrace men of all creeds and parties. I J fit to send me to the Houseof'Commo^|^1^Sfor my policy will be the game there. All that makes ro the lasting welfare of my country and ^1*11 haveasupporterinme. 1 believe m Engl.yid in Lu men, and in English Empire, and all that their good and integrity I stand by questions I reserve to myself the right of JNI J R» ment and freedom of action. And if these pledges are sufficient I do not care to become yenr member Such frankness and independence were widely applauded by all save political bigets and when at last the day of elwetiou came the whole popalaec was wound up to concert pitch. The whole of the ironworks were thrown idle for the day the pits and cotton mills in the neighbourhood were all closed and as it was a fine day the principal thoroughfares were crowded from morn till night with moving masses of noisy folk-some ^A^n^hfit wastnown that RusseH-Wentworth was Member of Parliament for Pentonmoor. Of the eight fiSBESS.'SSWL ohtlllled by hoth °PThat"ny| there was ajreat} ^^LupeS ifyTug, great toasting and smokirig^ and aTLS:LBWh Xt such is the manner of the Great Electorate. CHAPTER XXV.-THK SLAVE OF LOYK. The passage of a few mouths in the latei lsomewhat younger Russell-Wentworth ba pio reuik„aan's £ 2 SITTO, prosaic and evenly-flowly chaiaetei silver1 lot of those fortunate beings who are J dotin0, spoons in their mouths, and hare fon.i mothers to pamper them from the ei adle ^^•omthe'inonient of his birtl, Mrs ^Went- worth had been passionately devoted to le vouth ohild and lad he was petted and pampeie « and young man the ways of life were made a an(1 sweet and pleasant to him as a moihei when doting affection could arrange thing* and e he stood on the very threshold of his existence as It llllln he was his mother's child' still..„™onr>ed As a youth young Russell-Wentworth had co y his education at a Grammar school a mile or wo > and after he had finished there he had a priva e at home. The Ironmaster had spoken strong y £ srnch a course his idea was that his son shonld sp It year or two at one of the great public schoo s, go to j the University afterwards, and thus find his own level by living and learning and roughing it among youths nd hi"h-spirited voung men of his class. But the mother had insisted upon keeping her darling near her, and for the sake of peace her husband had been compelled to let her have her way. Between ei"hteeu and nineteen Russell-Wentworth, junior, had tired of his books and tutors, and had expressed an earnest, desire to his father that he might be permitted to euter business at the works at once; and knowing how dangerous idleness i to a well-to-do youngster, the Ironmaster had readily consented to his son's wishes. It was in the natural order of things that the junior should make himself thoroughly familiar with the senior's great business interests, and a few years' active employment at the Pentonmoor Ironworks would fit the son for the shoes of the father which he would one day have to assume. Apart from his priggishness, young Russell-Went- worth had many of the qualities essential to one in his position. He was a man of intelligence and education, had a fund of native shrewdness and ambition; was temperate and thoughtful, and but for the disdainful manner in which he was wont to regard all those who chanced to be socially beneath him, he would have passed muster in any ordinary crowd of the higher middle-class kind. One of that young man's earliest and most serious disappointments had been in connection with lovely Molly Ashbourne. He had known the pretty lass for years—had always thought her far removed from her companions of the mill on account of her comeliness, intelligence, and refinement; but until that summer's afternoon when his own mother had crowned the girl as Rose Queen—when she had refused him that dance he had sued for, to bestow it almost immediately after- wards upon Frank Ellesmere—his interest in the independent beauty had not been selfishly quickened. Perhaps if he hadn't had so much reason to dislike Ellesmere he might not have resented that slight so keenly. But he hi! ted Frank then on account of various small happenings and, later, when he realised that the young ironworker was in love with Molly he had laid himself out with malice prepense to spoil his enemy's game, feeling assured of an easy conquest. So he had sent the fair factory lass that pretty trinket; had seen her wearing his gift at the ball; had danced and flirted with the not unwilling damsel had persuaded her to meet him and then, when the game seemed well-nigh won, she had staggered him with those pertinent queries regarding the nature of his intentions had thrust the bangle in his hand, refused to see him again, save at home and had left him with no more ceremony than any ordinary working girl might have shown. And then, to further aggravate the smart of his wounded vanity, he had seen his rival enter Molly's htfme, and come forth with her on his arm and later still the successful wooer had openly bearded him that evening at the Institute; had announced hi" own engagement to Molly, and had warned him to be care- ful of his words when he spoke of Miss Ashbourne again. For weeks and months young Russell-Wentworth had chewed the cud of his unpleasant reflections and the passing of the days had only served to intensify his chagrin and desire. Every day now appeared to add to the girl's beauty beside her every other las nd young bdy in tho district was but commonplace if her station in life had but been a little nearer his own there was no saying how far he might have gone in order to appease his passion, and spite his rival at the same moment. And while the coming and going of each hour but added fuel to the fire that was smouldering in his heart the Ironmaster's son was forcing himself to look other things fairly and squarely in the face. After all why shouldn't he marry Molly Ashbourne if he desired to do so ? He had sworn to possess her, if but to wreck Frank Ellesmere's dreams of love and happiness, and if possession could only be obtained by means of a legitimate union why should he hesitate at that p His parents would object strenuously to such a course he knew but he did not despair of being able to sway his mother to his wishes. And in case his father proved obdurate-well, in a little while he would have attained 1 his majority, and then he could act as seemed best to himself. Besides, why should either of his parents set themselves against his desire? At his own age neither of them had dreamed of occupying the position they filled to-day. And so, egg-cd on by his wounded vanity and smouldering passion, he brooded continually over the matter, and one day he screwed up courage enough to enable him to face his mother on the subject. It was a week or so after the election his father was away in London among Parliamentary friends, and his maternal parent was confined to the house owing to some ailment contracted during the hurry and scurry and exciting ardour of the fight. So he had told her all had spoken of his passionate affection for the daughter of one of his father's workmen; had dwelt upon the affection he had cherished in secret and had tried to suppress for many months, until at last he had found that life was not worth having without the one he adored. The 1I1.re, handsome, and sentimental woman listened patiently to her darling son's story, with a troubled ex- pression on her florid face, and when he had done her words breathed only a sorrowful and tender pity for her loved offspring's amatorial folly. I am so sorry, my dear Russell, to hear of this.' she remarked plaintively. It is a most unfortunate affair, and, of course, it is quite impossible now.' Nonsense, ma he cried irritably. It is neither unfortunate nor impossible. Is it unfortunate that I should love one of the most beautiful girls in all England ? And why is it impossible, I should like to know P' Has the warmth of your feelings, dear, made you forget the girl's station in life P' she questioned, not too unkindly. She is very beautiful, I allow; but with your prospects, dear Russell, you need very much more than mere good looks in a wife. Besides, now you must think of your father's position as well as your own.' I can think of nothing but my desire to make her my wife, ma he answered petulantly. You admit that she is beautiful, and you know, also, how much above girls of her own class she is. She is very refined —is accomplished even in a little way, and with her intelligence a year or two's tuition and mixing among well-bred people would make her the equal of any lady in the land.' But your father will never consent to your marriage with Miss Ashbourne,' she said, weakly. We had dreamed of your making a really great match some day and what with your father's position as Member of Parliament and your own great prospects as our sole heir, there is no saying whom you might not marry, Russell.' But what is the use of being wealthy if one cannot marry to please one's self P he cried doggedly. I have set my heart upon this woman and I must marry her. Besides, ma, you did not think that position was every- thing when you married my father. I have heard-if you will pardon me 1Iaying so ?--that he Ind his were poor enough before he was married to you.' Poor enough, heaven knows she said warmly. He and his dear old folk were trembling on the verge of ruin, Russell. But I loved him more than anything else under heaven, and I was only too happy to be able to help to retrieve their fallen fortunes.' And you loved father so much, ma, that you would have married him even had h been ruined r' Yes, Russell, yes and the loving woman's voice grew very soft and low as she remembered the witchery ud glamour of her life's one great love. Had your father been walking in the gutter then as a street-sweeper I would have married him and raised him up.' And yet you would blame me for loving this g-irl as you once loved my father he cried, triumphantly, and his eyes aglow. Hush Say not another word, dear. If you love Miss Ashbourne so dearly I cannot say nay. But I am afraid that father will never consent.' He must when he knows that my happiness, my peace of mind, my life and whole future depend on his consent. But we need not talk of that now. Your consent, dear ma, has made me glad beyond words, and I feel assured of winning father over to my wishes when he knows all.' There was silence for some moments, after the young man went over to his mother and kissed her. She was thinking with regret of the ambitious bubbles she had blown in his behoof, and which his words had shattered so easily; yet she loved him too much to set herself against h'is heart's desire. Suddenly an idea came to har, and she accosted him with a pleased face. But. Russell, dear,' she remarked, quietly, I Mder- stood that Miss Ashbourne was engaged te that fino young ironworker named Ellesmere P Is that so P he responded, bitterly, and with set mouth. But that is nothing, ma. She allowed herself to become en^ao-ed to him simply besause I woidd not ask her to marry me I comld not do that until I had spoke to yeu and I would not speak until I found that I loved her too much to let her throw herself away on a eommon ™And you feel certaim that she cares for you, dear?' she queried, in a voice which showed that she would have been more than glad to douot it. 11 have but to ask her to marry me to prove that. he said proudly. And I mean to ask her soon. 'But there is no thought of a brief engagement I trust, my dear Russell ? she asked, somewhat anxiously. Your fkier would never agree to that-even if you persuade him to consent at all. And a* you were thought- ful enough to suggest, it would not give Miss Ashbourne an opportunity to improve herself.' I have thought of all that, ma,' he answered thought- fully, 'and have decided that it will be best in all ways to wait for a year or two. But we are both so yo™gi yet; and I can wait any length of tune. for swee Molly. so long as we are engaged to each other. Father caano object very strongly when our engagement is ot an indefinite character, and, in the meantime, shewi have a chance of so polishing herself as to pass muster in any ordinary orowd of ladies.' Yes that will be better, dear,' she replied, with a little sigh of relief. If her son was willing to wait for a year or two matter* ware not really so bad after all. In that space of time very much might take place. In a soore of months dear RusseJLl might see so many things in an altered way. A little knowledge of the world and its folk would sbow him as nothing else could how impossible and undesir- able a thing was this foolish dream he had conceived. And so thinking she was more contented. CHAPTER XXIV.—HE STOOPS TO CONQTJEK. One sultry day in mid-August, Mr Russell-Went- wortli, junior, hurried away from the offices at the Pentonmoor Ironworks, and set out briskly towards the town It was an hour or so after the dinner hour at the works, and shortly before this our young friend had lunched at Moorhurst, then he had dressed carefully, and after a flying visit to his place of business, had set his face in the direction of the street wherein Molly Ashbourne lived. Soon he was standing, flushed and eager-eyed, iu front of No. 59, Marlborough street, had lifted the knocker, and rapped thrice in a sharp authoritative manner, and then, after a little delay, he found himself face to face with Mrs Ashbourne. Oh, it's you, Mr Russell-Wentworth!" she mur- mured. in a slow, wondering way and I thought it must me he one of those nuisances of insurance agents." Yes. it is myself, Mrs Ashbourne," he answered briskly, aud all smiles. Y OIdl pardon my calling at such a time, but, if you can give me a few minutes there is something I should very much like to say to you alone." Of course Come in, sir she murmured graciously, and she ushered him into the neat little parlour. "And now. sir," she began, some moments later, as she handed him a chair and seated herself beside the open piano, what gives me the pleasure of seeing you in my humble home ? I come to speak to you about your daughter." Mary Wbttoflier,sirP" "I want you to allow me to pay my addresses to her- in fact, to beg you to permit me to ask her to become my wife some day Mr Russell-Wentworth she explained, surprised beyond measure, and yet with a glad light glowing in her fine eyes. I am amazed, and delighted, of course but you really cannot mean that you, the great Iron- master's son, want to ask my poor daughter to become your affianced wife ? But I do he cried, warmly. That is why I am here. But do you not say, Mrs Ashbourne, please." he pleaded, that there is no hope for me!" I do not say that, sir,' she reptied, gravely but it would have been ever so much better had you spoken earlier. You know that Mary is engaged now to young Ellesmere: and her father thinks highly of their engagement in every way.' Yes, I know of their engagement, but I do not despair on that account,' he cried. It was all my fault that. I ought to have asked dear Molly to be my wife when I sent her that little gift; but I was only half aware then of my own feelings, and I was fearful of the objections my people would raise to the match.' But your parents will object still, I suppose ?' Oh, no Father is away, and he doesn't know yet, but ma is quite agreeable. She knows everything-- knows that the dearest wish of my heart is to marry Molly; and father is sure to consent also when he learns that we don't wish to be married for some time -till such time as she has been trained for the position she will occupy.' Then in that case, I suppose, I must consent also.' the delighted woman remarked. Alt, thank you so much And when may I call ayain to see her ? This evening, perhaps ?' 'Why not now ? Wait here and I will send her to you. She was rather poorly this morning, so I kept her at home. But she is better now, and perhaps she will be glad to learn that you are waiting to see her. Now excuse me, sir.' Mrs Ashbourne withdrew, and with a flushed coun- tenance and a leaping pulse he waited, tremulous yet triumphant, for he had no fear of the result. A few minutes later Molly Ashbourne came gliding quietly into the room. She was much paler than usual. but her great eyes glowed with a lustrous fire she was clad in a plain gown of bright cotton, which set off her shapely figure to the utmost, and Russell-Wentworth thought her more beautiful and refined-looking than ever. 1 Miss Ashbourne—Molly P' he began, your mother has told you why I am here ?' No she only said that you wished to see me, sir.' So I do. I am here to tell you that I love you, and that I want you to be my wife.' Your wife she whispered. Your wife, Mr Russel I-We i it worth P How can that be when I am pledged now to Frank Ellesmere r No No! Don't ask me now.' 'I do ask you!' lie cried with fond assurance. 'I love you, Molly, and I ask you to be my wife. Your mother is willing, so is mine, also and our fathers won't object when they know that we have both set our hearts on the match. Come, Molly, dear, what do you say 1" and he took a step towards her with outstretched hands. 'What can I say?' she murmured, in an agitated way, as she shrank back a little from his clamant arms. Think of Frank I must think of him How can I ? —how am I to leave him now ?' 'By accepting my offer,' he said blandly. What can be easier P Say you will be mine, and the rest will settle itself. Come, Molly, darling, say you will be my wife.' But think of poor Frank she cried again. Yes, think of him, if you will,' he said, in an altered tone: 'and think also of the difference between as. Think of yourself as his wife, and then think of yourself as mine. In the first case you will be a workman's wife merely, with a life of drudgery before you-work and trouble which may make of you an old, worn-out, faded woman before your time. And then try to imagine yourself as the wife of Russell-Wentworth with riches, luxuries, servants—all the best the world has at your command. Think of all these things, and then tell me which is the better picture! She was silent for a few moments, and her hands were raised before her pale face. He stood beside her with a look of triumph on his sharp, high-coloured features, and although he felt that her answer was trembling in the balance of her mind he did not fear. Now, Molly, give me my answer,' he said. You must be my wife Why let a foolish fancy stand in your way P Say you will be my wife. Just whisper those dear words now.' He bent over her, and his hot amorous breath filtered through her fingers upon her face. She shivered at the touch, but did not rise to fly from him. Even when his hand was laid lightly upon her own she made no effort to shake it off. T am waiting for your answar, Molly." 'Not now! Not now! Wait. Give me time to think. I will write to you I will see you again.' But when ? Now look here, Molly Ashbourae,' and he stepped back a pace from her. Here is the diamond bangle I once sent you and here also is an engagement ring of diamonds and pearls. I shall leave them here. You will meet me on Sunday evening, at seven, in the Market Place, and if you wear my ring when you come, I ahall understand. Shall it be so? Yes let It be so And she looked at him, with moist eyes. In any case I will come.' Thanks. Now I am going. On Sunday, at seven, mind. Now, my dear Molly, one kiss before I— Not now. Now leave me, please.' Good bye, darling. I am content now,' and with that he touched her fingers with his lips and departed, leaving the lovely lass in tears. [To Bit CONTINUED.! -+-

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