an interview granted him by the
husband settled his opinion as to any possibility of the two ever coming
to terms. Also it struck him that if he by misadventure had been a woman
and the wife of such a fellow, by Jove!... his apostrophe to the father
of the gods of pagandom signifying the amount of matter Warwick would
have had reason to complain of in earnest. By ricochet his military
mind rebounded from his knowledge of himself to an ardent, faith in
Mrs. Warwick's innocence; for, as there was no resemblance between them,
there must, he deduced, be a difference in their capacity for enduring
the perpetual company of a prig, a stick, a petrified poser. Moreover,
the novel act of advocacy, and the nature of the advocacy, had effect
on him. And then he recalled the scene in the winter beech-woods, and
Diana's wild-deer eyes; her, perfect generosity to a traitor and fool.
How could he have doubted her? Glimpses of the corrupting cause for it
partly penetrated his density: a conqueror of ladies, in mid-career,
doubts them all. Of course he had meant no harm, nothing worse than some
petty philandering with the loveliest woman of her time. And, by Jove!
it was worth the rebuff to behold the Beauty in her wrath.

The reflections of Lothario, however much tending tardily to do justice
to a particular lady, cannot terminate wholesomely. But he became a
gallant partisan. His portrayal of Mr. Warwick to his wife and his
friends was fine caricature. 'The fellow had his hand up at my first
word--stood like a sentinel under inspection. "Understand, Sir Lukin,
that I receive you simply as an acquaintance. As an intermediary, permit
me to state that you are taking superfluous trouble. The case must
proceed. It is final. She is at liberty, in the meantime, to draw on
my bankers for the provision she may need, at the rate of five hundred
pounds per annum." He spoke of "the lady now bearing my name." He was
within an inch of saying "dishonouring." I swear I heard the "dis,"
and he caught himself up. He "again declined any attempt towards
reconciliation." It could "only be founded on evasion of the truth to be
made patent on the day of trial." Half his talk was lawyers' lingo.
The fellow's teeth looked like frost. If Lot's wife had a brother, his
name's Warwick. How Diana Merion, who could have had the pick of
the best of us, ever came to marry a fellow like that, passes my
comprehension, queer creatures as women are! He can ride; that's ab