Abel Fletcher's anger grew.
"And thee wants to hang on to the tail of other 'gentlemen,' such as Richard Brithwood, forsooth!--a fox-hunting, drinking, dicing fool!" I was shocked; I had not believed him so bad as that--the young 'squire--Miss March's cousin.
"Or," pursued my father, waxing hotter and hotter, "or a 'lady' such as his wife is, the Jezebel daughter of an Ahab father!--brought up in the impious atrocities of France, and the debaucheries of Naples, where, though she keeps it close here, she abode with that vile woman whom they call Lady Hamilton." John started.

Well he might, for even to our quiet town had come, all this winter, foul newspaper tales about Nelson and Lady Hamilton.
"Take care," he said, in much agitation.

"Any taint upon a woman's fame harms not her alone but all connected with her.

For God's sake, sir, whether it be true or not, do not whisper in Norton Bury that Lady Caroline Brithwood is a friend of Lady Hamilton." "Pshaw! What is either woman to us ?" And my father climbed the steps to his own door, John following.
"Nay, young gentleman, my poor house is hardly good enough for such as thee." John turned, cruelly galled, but recovered himself.
"You are unjust to me, Abel Fletcher; and you yourself will think so soon.

May I come in ?" My father made no answer, and I brought John in as usual.