It appeared to me essential that this first excitement should in a
measure spend itself before there would be a possibility of speaking to
any purpose. Now, when all would seem to have spoken who can speak, and,
it is to be hoped, have said the utmost they can say, there seems a
propriety in listening calmly, if that be possible, to what I have to say
in reply.

And, first, why have I made this disclosure at all?

_To this I answer briefly, Because I considered it my duty to make it_.

I made it in defence of a beloved, revered friend, whose memory stood
forth in the eyes of the civilised world charged with most repulsive
crimes, of which I _certainly_ knew her innocent.

I claim, and shall prove, that Lady Byron's reputation has been the
victim of a concerted attack, begun by her husband during her lifetime,
and coming to its climax over her grave. I claim, and shall prove, that
it was not I who stirred up this controversy in this year 1869. I shall
show _who did do it_, and who is responsible for bringing on me that hard
duty of making these disclosures, which it appears to me ought to have
been made by others.

I claim that these facts were given to me unguarded by any promise or
seal of secrecy, expressed or implied; that they were lodged with me as
one sister rests her story with another for sympathy, for counsel, for
defence. _Never_ did I suppose the day would come that I should be
subjected to so cruel an anguish as this use of them has been to me.
Never did I suppose that,--when those kind hands, that had shed nothing