out
all he can do. I told him Mrs. Warwick had no thought of reconciliation.
"Then, Sir Lukin, you will perceive that we have no standpoint for a
discussion." I told him the point was, for a man of honour not to drag
his wife before the public, as he had no case to stand on--less than
nothing. You should have seen the fellow's face. He shot a sneer up to
his eyelids, and flung his head back. So I said, "Good-day." He marches
me to the door, "with his compliments to Lady Dunstane." I could have
floored him for that. Bless my soul, what fellows the world is made of,
when here's a man, calling himself a gentleman, who, just because he
gets in a rage with his wife for one thing or another--and past all
competition the handsomest woman of her day, and the cleverest,
the nicest, the best of the whole boiling--has her out for a public
horsewhipping, and sets all the idiots of the kingdom against her!
I tried to reason with him. He made as if he were going to sleep
standing.'

Sir Lukin gratified Lady Dunstane by his honest championship of Diana.
And now, in his altered mood (the thrice indebted rogue was just
cloudily conscious of a desire to propitiate his dear wife by serving
her friend), he began a crusade against the scandal-newspapers, going
with an Irish military comrade straight to the editorial offices, and
leaving his card and a warning that the chastisement for print of the
name of the lady in their columns would be personal and condign. Captain
Carew Mahony, albeit unacquainted with Mrs. Warwick, had espoused her
cause. She was a woman, she was an Irishwoman, she was a beautiful
woman. She had, therefore, three positive claims on him as a soldier
and a man. Other Irish gentlemen, animated by the same swelling degrees,
were awaking to the intimation that they might be wanted. Some words
were dropped here and there by General Lord Larrian: he regretted his
age and infirmities. A goodly regiment for a bodyguard might have been
selected to protect her steps in the public streets; when it was bruited
that the General had sent her a present of his great Newfoundland dog,
Leander, to attend on her and impose a required respect. But as it
chanced that her address was unknown to the volunteer constabulary, they
had to assuage their ardour by thinking the dog luckier than they.

The report of the dog was a fact. He arrived one morning at Diana's
lodgings, with a soldier to lead him, and a card to introduce:--the
Hercules of