an; that woman the lady
bearing the title of half-mother to me. God help me! What are my sins?
She feels nothing, or about as much as the mortuary paragraph of the
newspapers, for the dead man; and I have Ambrose Mallard's look at her
and St. Ombre talking together, before he left the tent to cross the
fields. Borrow, beg, or steal for money to play for her! and not a
glimpse of the winning post.

St. Ombre 's a cool player; that 's at the bottom of the story. He's cool
because play doesn't bite him, as it did Ambrose. I should say the other
passion has never bitten him. And he's alive and presentable; Ambrose
under a sheet, with Chummy Potts to watch. Chummy cried like a brat in
the street for his lost mammy. I left him crying and sobbing. They have
their feelings, these "children of vapour," as you call them. But how did
I fall into the line with a set I despised? She had my opinion of her
gamblers, and retorted that young Cressett's turn for the fling is my
doing. I can't swear it's not. There's one of my sins. What's to wipe
them out! She has a tender feeling for the boy; confessed she wanted
governing. Why; she's young, in a way. She has that particular vice of
play. She might be managed. Here's a lesson for her! Don't you think she
might? The right man,--the man she can respect, fancy incorruptible! He
must let her see he has an eye for tricks. She's not responsible for--his
mad passion was the cause, cause of everything he did. The kind of woman
to send the shaft. You called her "Diana seated." You said, "She doesn't
hunt, she sits and lets fly her arrow." Well, she showed feeling for
young Cressett, and her hit at me was an answer. It struck me on the
mouth. But she's an eternal anxiety. A man she respects! A man to govern
her!'

Fleetwood hurried his paces. 'I couldn't have allowed poor Ambrose.
Besides, he had not a chance--never had in anything. It wants a head,
wants the man who can say no to her. "The Reveller's Aurora," you called
her. She has her beauty, yes. She respects you. I should be relieved--a
load off me! Tell her, all debts paid; fifty thousand invested, in her
name and her husband's. Tell her, speak it, there's my consent--if only
the man to govern her! She has it from me, but repeat it, as from me.
That sum and her portion would make a fair income for the two. Relieved?
By heaven, what a relief! Go early. Coach to Esslemont at eleven. Do my
work there. I haven't to repeat my directions. I shal