As I once more rode up Kingswell Hill,it seemed as if the whole parish were agog to see the novel sight.A contested election!truly,such a thing had not been known within the memory of the oldest inhabitant.The fifteen voters--I believe that was the number--were altogether bewildered by a sense of their own importance.Also,by a new and startling fact--which I found Mr.
Halifax trying to impress upon a few of them,gathered under the great yew-tree in the churchyard--that a man's vote ought to be the expression of his own conscientious opinion;and that for him to sell it was scarcely less vile than to traffic in the liberty of his son or the honour of his daughter.Among those who listened most earnestly,was a man whom I had seen before to-day--Jacob Baines,once the ringleader of the bread-riots,who had long worked steadily in the tan-yard,and then at the flour-mill.He was the honestest and faithfulest of all John's people--illustrating unconsciously that Divine doctrine,that often they love most to whom most has been forgiven.
The poll was to be held in the church--a not uncommon usage in country boroughs,but which from its rarity struck great awe into the Kingswell folk.The churchwarden was placed in the clerk's desk to receive votes.Not far off,the sheriff sat in his family-pew,bare-headed;by his grave and reverent manner imposing due decorum,which was carefully observed by all except Lord Luxmore and Mr.Brithwood.
These two,apparently sure of their cause,had recovered their spirits,and talked and laughed loudly on the other side of the church.It was a very small building,narrow and cruciform;every word said in it was distinctly audible throughout.
"My lord,gentlemen,and my friends all,"said Sir Ralph,rising gravely,"let me hope that every one will respect the sanctity of this place."Lord Luxmore,who had been going about with his dazzling diamond snuff-box and equally dazzling smile,stopped in the middle of the aisle,bowed,replied,"With pleasure--certainly!"and walked inside the communion rail,as if believing that his presence there conveyed the highest compliment he could pay the spot.
The poll began in perfect silence.One after the other,three farmers went up and voted for Mr.Vermilye.There was snuff under their noses--probably something heavier than snuff in their pockets.
Then came up the big,grey-headed fellow I have before mentioned--Jacob Baines.He pulled his fore-lock to Sir Ralph,rather shyly;possibly in his youth he had made the sheriff's acquaintance under less favourable circumstances.But he plucked up courage.
"Your honour,might a man say a word to 'ee?""Certainly!but be quick,my good fellow,"replied the baronet,who was noted for his kindly manner to humble folk.
"Sir,I be a poor man.I lives in one o'my lord's houses.I hanna paid no rent for a year.Mr.Brown zays to me,he zays--'Jacob,vote for Vermilye,and I'll forgive 'ee the rent,and here be two pound ten to start again wi'.So,as I zays to Matthew Hales (he be Mr.
Halifax's tenant,your honour,and my lord's steward ha'paid 'un nigh four pound for his vote),I sure us be poor men,and his lordship a lord and all that--it's no harm,I reckon.""Holloa!cut it short,you rascal;you're stopping the poll.Vote,Isay."
"Ay,ay,'squire;"and the old fellow,who had some humour in him,pulled his hair again civilly to Mr.Brithwood."Wait till I ha'got shut o'these."And he counted out of his ragged pockets a handful of guineas.Poor fellow!how bright they looked;those guineas,that were food,clothing,life.
"Three was paid to I,two to Will Horrocks,and the rest to Matthew Hales.But,sir,we has changed our minds;and please,would 'ee give back the money to them as owns it?""Still,my honest friend--"
"Thank 'ee,Sir Ralph,that's it:we be honest;we couldn't look the master in the face else.Twelve year ago,come Michaelmas,he kept some on us from starving--may be worse.We bean't going to turn rascals on's hands now.Now I'll vote,sir,--and it won't be for Vermilye."A smothered murmur of applause greeted old Jacob,as he marched back down the aisle,where on the stone benches of the porch was seated a rural jury,who discussed not over-favourably the merits of Lord Luxmore's candidate.
"He owes a power o'money in Norton Bury--he do.""Why doesn't he show his face at the 'lection,like a decent gen'leman?""Fear'd o'bailiffs!"suggested the one constable,old and rheumatic,who guarded the peace of Kingswell."He's the biggest swindler in all England.""Curse him!"muttered an old woman."She was a bonny lass--my Sally!
Curse him!"
All this while,Lord Luxmore sat in lazy dignity in the communion-chair,apparently satisfied that as things always had been so they would continue to be;that despite the unheard-of absurdity of a contested election,his pocket-borough was quite secure.It must have been,to say the least,a great surprise to his lordship,when,the poll being closed,its result was found thus:Out of the fifteen votes,six were for Mr.Vermilye,nine for his opponent.Mr.Herbert Oldtower was therefore duly elected as member for the borough of Kingswell.
The earl received the announcement with dignified,incredulous silence;but Mr.Brithwood never spared language.
