As the day of her trial became more closely calculable, Diana’s anticipated alarms receded with the deadening of her heart to meet the shock.  She fancied she had put on proof-armour, unconscious that it was the turning of the inward flutterer to steel, which supplied her cuirass and shield.  The necessity to brave society, in the character of honest Defendant, caused but a momentary twitch of the nerves.  Her heart beat regularly, like a serviceable clock; none of her faculties abandoned her save songfulness, and none belied her, excepting a disposition to tartness almost venomous in the sarcastic shafts she let fly at friends interceding with Mr. Warwick to spare his wife, when she had determined to be tried.  A strange fit of childishness overcame her powers of thinking, and was betrayed in her manner of speaking, though—­to herself her dwindled humour allowed her to appear the towering Britomart.  She pouted contemptuously on hearing that a Mr. Sullivan Smith (a remotely recollected figure) had besought Mr. Warwick for an interview, and gained it, by stratagem, ‘to bring the man to his senses’:  but an ultra-Irishman did not compromise her battle-front, as the busybody supplications of a personal friend like Mr. Redworth did; and that the latter, without consulting her, should be ’one of the plaintive crew whining about the heels of the Plaintiff for a mercy she disdained and rejected’ was bitter to her taste.

’He does not see that unless I go through the fire there is no justification for this wretched character of mine!’ she exclaimed.  Truce, treaty, withdrawal, signified publicly pardon, not exoneration by any means; and now that she was in armour she had no dread of the public.  So she said.  Redworth’s being then engaged upon the canvass of a borough, added to the absurdity of his meddling with the dilemmas of a woman.  ’Dear me, Emma! think of stepping aside from the parliamentary road to entreat a husband to relent, and arrange the domestic alliance of a contrary couple!  Quixottry is agreeable reading, a silly performance.’  Lady Dunstane pleaded his friendship.  She had to quit the field where such darts were showering.

The first dinner-party was aristocratic, easy to encounter.  Lord and Lady Crane, Lady Pennon, Lord and Lady Esquart, Lord Larrian, Mr. and Mrs. Montvert of Halford Manor, Lady Singleby, Sir Walter Capperston friends, admirers of Diana; patrons, in the phrase of the time, of her father, were the guests.  Lady Pennon expected to be amused, and was gratified, for Diana had only to open her mouth to set the great lady laughing.  She petitioned to have Mrs. Warwick at her table that day week, because the marquis was dying to make her acquaintance, and begged to have all her sayings repeated to him; vowed she must be salt in the desert.  ’And remember, I back you through thick and thin,’ said Lady Pennon.  To which Diana replied:  ‘If I am salt in the desert, you are the spring’; and the old lady protested