Page:Memoirs of the Lady Hester Stanhope.djvu/131

 now-a-days, who call themselves gentlemen, and don’t know how to blow their nose!—when the first peer of the realm will go about bragging what a trick he has played some poor woman whom he has seduced! Cursed be the hour that ever the name of gentleman came into the language! I have seen hedgers and ditchers at my father’s, who talked twice as good sense as half the fine gentlemen now-a-days—a pack of fellows, that do little else than eat, drink, and sleep. Can one exist with such persons as these? or is it to be supposed that God can tolerate such brutalities?"

I sat by, as I was accustomed to do, on such occasions, mute; knowing that a word uttered at that moment would only increase her irritation, instead of appeasing it. She went on: "And whilst you show no more sensibility than that wall, here am I, a poor dying creature" (and then she wept so that it was piteous to hear her), "half killed by these nasty black beasts. Last night, instead of coming refreshed out of my bath, soothed by a gentle perspiration, I was drier than ever, with my mouth parched, my skin parched, and feebler than I was yesterday. But they will all suffer for it; not here, perhaps, but in the other world: for God will not see a poor miserable creature trampled under foot as I have been."

As she grew a little calm, I expressed my regret to