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.