"Nay, nay, it's no use now!" And so
on. Only those close to the balcony heard the figures. The noise of
the crowd made it impossible for the people standing near Hanover
Chapel gates to bear a word which the chief magistrate had uttered.

Presently, however, a great hush came over the crowd again. The people
saw Mr. Bolitho step forward, but only one sentence was heard,
"Gentlemen," he said, "we have fought a good fight, and we have won
it!" Of course, his supporters shouted wildly, but the cries of
antagonism were stronger. Voices became more and more angry. It might
seem as though a riot were possible.

Mr. Bolitho, however, continued his speech, which, although the people
in the street could not hear, was plain to those who stood on the
balcony. He thanked the people for supporting him. He remarked that
he had come there a stranger, and was now their friend. He declared
that his duty was no longer to a part but the whole of the voters, that
he should recognise no difference between one section of the people and
another. It was for him to represent the town as a whole, which he
intended to do faithfully and loyally. He desired, also, to compliment
his opponent on the spirit in which he had conducted his part of the
battle, and for the straight fight which had been the consequence. He
referred to a few of his most prominent supporters, and then, raising
his voice so loudly that it reached to the extreme limits of the crowd,
he said: "It may seem bad taste on my part to refer to one without whom
I should never have won this election." At this even the most
turbulent became silent again, they wanted to hear what he had to say.
"I owe my victory," he said, "and you owe your victory, to my daughter,
Mary." And placing his hand upon her shoulder, he drew her forward.
"Here!" he cried, "is your real victor in the battle!"

There was great cheering at this, and even his bitterest opponents did
not resent it. The light fell strongly upon the girl's face, and even
Paul could not help reflecting how beautiful she looked. Her eyes were
flashing with excitement, her lips wreathed with smiles. No wonder she
had fascinated him, no wonder, in spite of the fact that he hated her
father, he almost worshipped her, even while he hated her.

"Speech, speech!" yelled the crowd. "Speech from Miss Mary Bolitho!"

She looked at her father, who nodded, and then the girl stepped
forward, while every ear was strained so a