I have told you how much pain it costs me to speak about my little charities, and yet you come to make me tell you the whole story over again.

But I hope, after all, your lordship is not surprised at what I have thought it my duty to do in this sad affair--perhaps I have listened too much to the dictates of my own heart, which are apt to be so deceitful." On the watch to get at something explanatory, yet afraid, by demanding it directly, to show that the previous tide of narrative and pathos had been lost on an inattentive ear, Lord Etherington could only say, that Lady Penelope could not err in acting according to the dictates of her own judgment.
Still the compliment had not sauce enough for the lady's sated palate; so, like a true glutton of praise, she began to help herself with the soup-ladle.
"Ah! judgment ?--how is it you men know us so little, that you think we can pause to weigh sentiment in the balance of judgment ?--that is expecting rather too much from us poor victims of our feelings.

So that you must really hold me excused if I forgot the errors of this guilty and unhappy creature, when I looked upon her wretchedness--Not that I would have my little friend, Miss Digges, or your lordship, suppose that I am capable of palliating the fault, while I pity the poor, miserable sinner.

Oh, no--Walpole's verses express beautifully what one ought to feel on such occasions-- '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 _precieuses_," 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.