Sir George Tressady — Volume I by Ward, Humphry, Mrs., 1851-1920

E-text prepared by Andrew Templeton, Juliet Sutherland, Mary Meehan, and Project Gutenberg Distributed Proofreaders

Note: This book was originally published as two separate volumes. This Project Gutenberg edition preserves the two-volume format primarily because of the length of the novel. This is Volume I. Volume II can be found at http://www.ibiblio.org/gutenberg/etext05/7sgt210.txt or http://www.ibiblio.org/gutenberg/etext05/7sgt210.zip. http://www.ibiblio.org/gutenberg/etext05/8sgt210.txt http://www.ibiblio.org/gutenberg/etext05/8sgt210.zip

SIR GEORGE TRESSADY, VOLUME I

IN TWO VOLUMES

BY

MRS. HUMPHRY WARD

AUTHOR OF "MARCELLA," "THE HISTORY OF DAVID GRIEVE," "ROBERT ELSMEKE," ETC.

To my Brother and friend

WILLIAM THOMAS ARNOLD

I INSCRIBE THIS BOOK

VOLUME I.

PART I

CHAPTER I

"Well, that's over, thank Heaven!"

The young man speaking drew in his head from the carriage-window. But instead of sitting down he turned with a joyous, excited gesture and lifted the flap over the little window in the back of the landau, supporting himself, as he stooped to look, by a hand on his companion's shoulder. Through this peephole he saw, as the horses trotted away, the crowd in the main street of Market Malford, still huzzaing and waving, the wild glare of half a dozen torches on the faces and the moving forms, the closed shops on either hand, the irregular roofs and chimneys sharp-cut against a wintry sky, and in the far distance the little lantern belfry and taller mass of the new town-hall.

"I'm much astonished the horses didn't bolt!" said the man addressed. "That bay mare would have lost all the temper she's got in another moment. It's a good thing we made them shut the carriage--it has turned abominably cold. Hadn't you better sit down?"

And Lord Fontenoy made a movement as though to withdraw from the hand on his shoulder.

The owner of the hand flung himself down on the seat, with a word of apology, took off his hat, and drew a long breath of fatigue. At the same moment a sudden look of disgust effaced the smile with which he had taken his last glimpse at the crowd.

"All very well!--but what one wants after this business is _a moral tub_! The lies I've told during the last three weeks--the bunkum I've talked!--it's a feeling of positive dirt! And the worst of it is, however you may scrub your mind afterwards, some of it must stick."

He took out a cigarette, and lit it at his companion's with a rather unsteady hand. He had a thin, long face and fair hair; and one would have guessed him some ten years younger than the man beside him.

"Certainly--it will stick," said the other. "Election promises nowadays are sharply looked after. I heard no bunkum. As far as I know, our party doesn't talk any. We leave that to the Government!"