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Updated: June 6, 2025
Well, what room for bitterness? though, with the unreason that no man escapes, he was not without bitterness. He had disappointed them as a debater and, in other ways, what had he done for them since Whitsuntide? No doubt also the mention of his name in the reports of the Mile End meeting had not been without its effect. He believed that Fontenoy's personal regard for him still held.
She drew her thick veil round her head and face, and said some tremulous words, which unconsciously deepened the gloom on Fontenoy's face. Apparently they were to the effect that before going home she wished to see the Anglican priest in whom she especially confided, a certain Father White, who was to all intents and purposes her director.
A "working-woman" was put up to second an amendment condemning the workshops clause, which had been moved in an angry speech by one of "Fontenoy's ladies," a shrill-voiced, fashionable person, the secretary to the local branch of the Free Workers' League. Tressady had yawned impatiently through the speech, which had seemed to him a violent and impertinent performance.
Yet, of course, the situation, Maxwell, Fontenoy, all that those names implied to him and her, made a thrilling under-note in both their minds. She never forgot her husband and his straits; and in George's mind Fontenoy's rugged figure stood sentinel.
On this vital clause, in Fontenoy's belief, the Government would go down. But if, by amazing good-fortune and good generalship, they should get through with it, then the fight would but rage the more fiercely round the last two sections of the Bill. The third section dealt with the hours of labour in the new workshops that were to be.
Lord Fontenoy ceased to talk; yet every now and then, as some jolt of the carriage made George open his eyes, he saw the broad-shouldered figure beside him, sitting in the same attitude, erect and tireless, the same half-peevish pugnacity giving expression to mouth and eye. "Come, wake up, Tressady! Here we are!" There was a vindictive eagerness in Fontenoy's voice.
But a paragraph that morning in Fontenoy's paper a paragraph that he happened to have seen in Lord Ardagh's room had appealed to another natural instinct, stronger and more primitive. It amazed him that even this emergency and Mrs. Allison's persuasions could have brought the owner of the paper within his doors on this particular morning.
But Fontenoy's tone and attitude in the House of Commons had been already decisive. The breech between them was complete. He put the sheets down at last, groaning within himself. Fustian and emptiness! What would ever give him back his old self-confidence, the gay whole-heartedness with which he had entered Parliament? But the thing had to be done, and he had done it efficiently.
Burrows was speaking up and down the district with a superhuman energy, varied only by the drinking-bouts to which he occasionally succumbed; and George carried a revolver with him when he went abroad. The struggle wore him to death; the melancholy of his temperament had never been so marked. At the same time Letty saw a doggedness in him, a toughness like Fontenoy's own, which astonished her.
Fontenoy had thrown his whole colossal power of work into the struggle for the Market Malford seat, and George owed him much. After he was left to himself on this particular night, Tressady was for long restless and wakeful. In spite of resistance, Fontenoy's talk and Fontenoy's personality had nevertheless restored for the moment an earlier balance of mind.
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