There has been much conjecture with regard to the motives of Hadfield in his conduct to poor Mary Robinson. The explanation that he was actuated by pure animalism cannot be reconciled with our knowledge of his temperament or his methods, setting aside the initial objection that the sensualist, already cloyed by innumerable conquests, does not usually play a heavy stake to gratify a passing fancy. Nor is it credible that a man who had the heart to forsake two wives and five children could have been influenced by love. At first sight it seems probable that, just as the most reckless speculator often cuts a desperate loss, he wished to quit a hazardous career of fraud, and to live a life of quiet and seclusion in the humble home of the Beauty of Buttermere. Such foresight, however, was wholly inconsistent with the nature of the man; and even had he been capable of this reasoning, a moment’s reflection must have taught him that his recent ostentation had made retirement impossible. No; like that of every gambler, John Hadfield’s destiny was ruled by chance. Each stake he played was determined by the exigency of the moment; win or lose, he could not draw back nor rest, but must follow blindly the fortunes of the day to cover the losses of the past. Although not able to possess his Irish heiress, the tiny dowry of Mary Robinson, the poor little inn at Buttermere, seemed to lie at his mercy, and so he seized upon it and threw it--as he would have thrown his winnings of any shape or kind--into the pool. John Hadfield was a fatalist, and his motto, _Quam minimum credula postero_.