‘For never was the gentle breast
Insensible to human woes;
Feeling, though firm, it melts distress'd
For weaknesses it never knows.’”
“Most accursed of all précieuses,” thought his lordship, “when wilt thou, amidst all thy chatter, utter one word sounding like sense or information!”
But, Lady Penelope went on—“If you knew, my lord, how I lament my limited means on those occasions! but I have gathered something among the good people at the Well. I asked that selfish wretch, Winterblossom, to walk down with me to view her distress, and the heartless beast told me he was afraid of infection!—infection from a puer—puerperal fever! I should not perhaps pronounce the word, but science is of no sex—however, I have always used thieves' vinegar essence, and never have gone farther than the threshold.”
Whatever were Etherington's faults, he did not want charity, so far as it consists in giving alms.
“I am sorry,” he said, taking out his purse, “your ladyship should not have applied to me.”
“Pardon me, my lord, we only beg from our friends; and your lordship is so constantly engaged with Lady Binks, that we have rarely the pleasure of seeing you in what I call my little circle.”
Lord Etherington, without further answer, tendered a couple of guineas, and observed, that the poor woman should have medical attendance.
“Why, so I say,” answered Lady Penelope; “and I asked the brute Quackleben, who, I am sure, owes me some gratitude, to go and see her; but the sordid monster answered, ‘Who was to pay him?’—He grows every day more intolerable, now that he seems sure of marrying that fat blowzy widow. He could not, I am sure, expect that I—out of my pittance—And besides, my lord, is there not a law that the parish, or the county, or the something or other, shall pay for physicking the poor?”
“We will find means to secure the Doctor's attendance,” said Lord Etherington; “and I believe my best way will be to walk back to the Well, and send him to wait on the patient. I am afraid I can be of little use to a poor woman in a childbed fever.”
“Puerperal, my lord, puerperal,” said Lady Penelope, in a tone of correction.