What right have we to make these charges?
What have we seen in our own personal walks through life to make us believe that women are devils?
There may possibly have been a Xantippe here and there, but Imogenes are to be found under every bush.

Lady Scatcherd, in spite of the life she had led, was one of them.
"You should send a message up to London for Louis," said the doctor.
"We did that, doctor; we did that to-day--we sent up a telegraph.

Oh me! oh me! poor boy, what will he do?
I shall never know what to do with him, never! never!" And with such sorrowful wailings she sat rocking herself through the long night, every now and then comforting herself by the performance of some menial service in the sick man's room.
Sir Roger passed the night much as he had passed the day, except that he appeared gradually to be growing nearer to a state of consciousness.

On the following morning they succeeded at last in making Mr Rerechild understand that they were not desirous of keeping him longer from his Barchester practice; and at about twelve o'clock Dr Thorne also went, promising that he would return in the evening, and again pass the night at Boxall Hill.
In the course of the afternoon Sir Roger once more awoke to his senses, and when he did so his son was standing at his bedside.

Louis Philippe Scatcherd--or as it may be more convenient to call him, Louis--was a young man just of the age of Frank Gresham.