During this time a species of intimacy was growing up between Hiram Meeker and Hill. An odd companionship, you will say; but they seemed to get along very well together. The latter, as you may remember, was a wild, reckless fellow. He had his good traits, though. There was nothing mean in his composition, but much that was impulsive and generous. He never laid up a penny, and was always in debt. It was this unfortunate habit which had kept him so long at Joslin's. He had got in advance of his salary, and he would not quit till it was made up. When he left there, he succeeded in getting a place in a large wine and liquor house; for Hill's acquaintance was extensive, and in those days of extraordinary 'drumming,' in which he was a great proficient, his services were valuable. It was through Hill, as I have said, that Hiram got his place at Hendly's, and after that he was in the habit of looking in nearly every day on him toward the close of business hours.
I cannot precisely explain by what species of fascination this poor fellow was attracted to Meeker. Doubtless it originated in the triumphant resistance which the latter opposed to Hill's attempt on him at their first acquaintance, and his complete victory over and discomfiture of Benjamin Joslin, for whom Hill entertained a supreme contempt. There was a mystery about the sources of Hiram's power which completed the charm, and made Hill his willing subject, and afterward slave.
But what did Hiram want of Hill? That would appear more difficult to answer. He certainly did want something of him. For he encouraged his coming often to see him, and talked with him a great deal. He even lent him occasionally small sums of money. I repeat, what a droll companionship! Hill, a swearing, drinking, godless scapegrace. Meeker, a quiet, exemplary, religious, laborious young man.
Perhaps it was the rule by which opposites are attracted to each other.
Perhaps it was something else.
On the whole, I am inclined to think it was something else, on Hiram's part at least. I believe he acted, with respect to Hill, as he did with respect to everybody—from carefully considered motives. We shall see, perhaps, by and by, how this was.
Eastman used to wonder that Hiram should tolerate Hill's society. To be sure, he himself had a sort of family regard for him. But his presence always annoyed him. He even expressed his surprise to Hiram, who replied by making use of the moral argument. He was sorry for the poor fellow. He hoped to do him some good. Possibly he might be able to bring him under better influences. Certainly Hill would not harm him, while, on the contrary, he (Hill) might be benefited.
Hiram did not tell the truth.
Really, if he had dared to stop and inquire of himself, he would be forced to acknowledge that he did not want Hill to be different from what he was. Then he would not serve his purpose. To be sure, sometimes, when Hill permitted an extra strong oath to escape his lips, Hiram would fidget and look uneasy, and beg his visitor to break himself of such a wicked habit. But the secret of Hiram's power did not lie in his moral influence certainly, for Hill's habit of swearing did not improve, indeed it grew worse.