Now, Tom, although I never speculated in all my life as to figuring in an affair like this, these considerations were often strongly impressed upon me by reading the newspapers, and I bad come to the conclusion that a man should never think of defending an action of this kind, no more than he would a petition against his election, and for the same reason. Since, although not actually guilty in the one case or the other, you are certain to have committed so many indiscretions,--written, maybe, so many ridiculous letters,--and, in fact, exposed yourself so much, that if you cannot keep out of sight altogether, the next best thing is, let the judgment go by default. I say this to show you that the moment my Lord threw out the hint about law I had made up my mind from that instant. "I sincerely wish," said he, after some deliberation, "that I could hit upon any mode of arranging this affair; for although I own you have made a strongly favorable impression upon me, 'Dodd,'"--he called me Dodd here, quite like an old friend,--"we cannot expect that Hampton could concur in this view. The fact is, the whole thing has got so much blazed abroad,--they are so well known in the fashionable world, both home and foreign,--she is so very handsome, so much admired, and he is such a charming fellow,--the case has created a kind of European _éclat_. Looking at the matter candidly, there may be a good deal in what you have said, but as a man of the world, I am forced to say that Hampton must shoot you, or sue for a divorce. I am well aware that whichever course he adopts many will condemn him. In the clubs there will be always parties. There may spring up even a kind of _juste milieu_, who will say, 'Now that poor Dodd is dead, I wonder if he really _was_ guilty?'" "I protest I feel very grateful to them, my Lord," said I. But he paid no attention to my remark, and went on,-- "If vengeance be all that a man looks for, probably the law of the land will do as much for him as the law of honor. You ruin a fellow, irretrievably ruin him, by an action of this kind. You probably remember Sir Gaybrook Foster, that ran off with Lady Mudford? Well, he had a splendid estate, did n't owe a shilling, they said, before that; they tell me now that some one saw him the other day at Geelong, croupier to a small 'hell.' Then there was Lackington, whom we used to call the 'Cool of the Evening.'" "I never knew one of them, my Lord," said I, impatiently, for I did n't care to hear all the illustrations of his theory. "Lackington was older than you are," continued he, "when he bolted with that city man's wife,--what's his confounded name?" "I am shamefully ill-read, my Lord, in this kind of literature," said I, "nor has it the same interest for me that it seems to afford your Lordship. May I take the liberty of recalling your attention to the matter before us?"