she must put that down for her book.  The witty Mrs. Warwick, of whom wit was expected, had many incitements to be guilty of cheap wit; and the beautiful Mrs. Warwick, being able to pass anything she uttered, gave good and bad alike, under the impulsion to give out something, that the stripped and shivering Mrs. Warwick might find a cover in applause.  She discovered the social uses of cheap wit; she laid ambushes for anecdotes, a telling form of it among a people of no conversational interlocution, especially in the circles depending for dialogue upon perpetual fresh supplies of scandal; which have plentiful crops, yet not sufficient.  The old dinner and supper tables at The Crossways furnished her with an abundant store; and recollection failing, she invented.  Irish anecdotes are always popular in England, as promoting, besides the wholesome shake of the sides, a kindly sense of superiority.  Anecdotes also are portable, unlike the lightning flash, which will not go into the pocket; they can be carried home, they are disbursable at other tables.  These were Diana’s weapons.  She was perforce the actress of her part.

In happier times, when light of heart and natural, her vogue had not been so enrapturing.  Doubtless Cleopatra in her simple Egyptian uniform would hardly have won such plaudits as her stress of barbaric Oriental splendours evoked for her on the swan and serpent Nile-barge—­not from posterity at least.  It is a terrible decree, that all must act who would prevail; and the more extended the audience, the greater need for the mask and buskin.

From Lady Pennon’s table Diana passed to Lady Crane’s, Lady Esquart’s, Lady Singleby’s, the Duchess of Raby’s, warmly clad in the admiration she excited.  She appeared at Princess Therese Paryli’s first ball of the season, and had her circle, not of worshippers only.  She did not dance.  The princess, a fair Austrian, benevolent to her sisterhood, an admirer of Diana’s contrasting complexion, would have had her dance once in a quadrille of her forming, but yielded to the mute expression of the refusal.  Wherever Mrs. Warwick went, her arts of charming were addressed to the women.  Men may be counted on for falling bowled over by a handsome face and pointed tongue; women require some wooing from their ensphered and charioted sister, particularly if she is clouded; and old women—­excellent buttresses—­must be suavely courted.  Now, to woo the swimming matron and court the settled dowager, she had to win forgiveness for her beauty; and this was done, easily done, by forbearing to angle with it in the press of nibblers.  They ranged about her, individually unnoticed.  Seeming unaware of its effect where it kindled, she smote a number of musical female chords, compassion among them.  A general grave affability of her eyes and smiles was taken for quiet pleasure in the scene.  Her fitful intentness of look when conversing with the older ladies told of the mind within at work upon