"Well, Mr. Fen-wick," said the sporting peer, "I suppose, if that be the case, you won't come to Doncaster again in a hurry. But my settling day is to-morrow--you know I keep sharp accounts; and if you have not the '_ready_' at hand, I shall expect an equivalent--you understand me." So saying, he rode off, leaving the prodigal to commit suicide if he chose. It is enough for me to tell you that, in his madness and his misery, and from the influence of what he called his sense of honour, he gave the winner a bill for the money--payable at sight. My feelings will not permit me to tell you how the poor infatuated madman more than once made attempts upon his own life; but the latent love of his wife and of his children prevailed over the rash thought, and, in a state bordering on insanity, he presented himself before the beings he had so deeply injured. I might describe to you how poor Eleanor was sitting in their little parlour, with her boy upon a stool by her side, and her little girl on her knee, telling them fondly that their father would be home soon, and anon singing to them the simple nursery rhyme-- "Hush, my babe, baby bunting, Your father's at the hunting," etc.; when the door opened, and the guilty father entered, his hair clotted, his eyes rolling with the wildness of despair, and the cold sweat running down his pale cheeks. "Eleanor! Eleanor!" he cried, as he flung himself upon a sofa. She placed her little daughter on the floor--she flew towards him--"My Edward!--oh my Edward!" she cried--"what is it, love?--something troubles you." "Curse me, Eleanor!" exclaimed the wretched prodigal, turning his face from her. "I have ruined you I--I have ruined my children!--I am lost for ever!" "No, my husband!" exclaimed the best of wives; "your Eleanor will not curse you. Tell me the worst, and I will bear it--cheerfully bear it, for my Edward's sake." "You will not--you cannot," cried he; "I have sinned against you as never man sinned against woman. Oh! if you would spit upon the very ground where I tread, I would feel it as an alleviation of my sufferings; but your sympathy, your affection, makes my very soul destroy itself! Eleanor!--Eleanor-!--if you have mercy, hate me--tell me--show me that you do!" "O Edward!" said she, imploringly, "was it thus when your Eleanor spurned every offer for your sake, when you pledged to her everlasting love? She has none but you, and can you speak thus? O husband! if you will forsake _me_, forsake not my poor children--tell me! only tell me the worst--and I will rejoice to endure it with my Edward!" "Then," cried Fen-wick, "if you will add to my misery by professing to love a wretch like me--know you are a beggar!--and I have made you one! Now, can you share beggary with me?"