Of all the galling miseries that man is heir to, the most intolerable, the most debasing, the most corroding to the heart, the most destructive to the mind, is the consciousness of debt without the means of payment. Oh! what days of humiliation, what nights of nervous wakefulness, or else of dreaming horror, does he abide, on whose oppressed spirit is laid the load of payments he cannot meet, of obligations he cannot cancel. For him, though the sun shines abroad, there is no beauty in his beams. The earth is clothed with verdure, and a thousand odorous flowers are scattered in his path. He heeds them not; their perfume is wasted on him. The moon rides in liquid lustre, and the myriad stars break forth in light, and the whole heaven is clothed with exceeding glory; but there is a darkness in his soul no light can penetrate—a grief at his heart no beauties of nature can assuage. His energies are dead; they fester beneath the pall of despair.
When at last every inch of his property was covered by debt, and the remorseless creditor was about to strip and turn naked on the world, him from whose hand he once had fed, kind death stepped in and released the poor old gentleman from his troubles; and what he himself was too honorable to do, his heirs did without hesitation. They resisted Willis's claim upon the plea of usury. Heywood was their advocate. Fired with indignation at the base ingratitude of the man, he summoned all the powers of his eloquence against him, and so awfully severe was the attack, that Willis, although in general bold and impudent, slunk away from the court amid the hisses and groans of the crowd. The very next day, to his utter amazement, Heywood was waited on by Willis, who placed in his hands business of great value, and paid him down a handsome fee.
"You see, Mr. Heywood, I can forgive and forget, as bad as you think of me, and as much as you have abused me. The fact is, sir, you are what I call a real clever man, and to my notion the best lawyer I've met with—so you're the man for my money; and I suppose if I pay you your fees, you'll do my business as soon as another man's—and I can make it worth your while, I tell you. You said yesterday, I was a vampire bloated with the lifeblood sucked in secret from the veins of my victims. I remember the words, but not in malice. Well sir, when I see fit I can bleed pretty free myself; and if you'll just consider yourself my lawyer in all my cases, I'll pay you fifteen hundred a year, and say done first."
"Mr. Willis," replied Heywood, "I have no hesitation in accepting your offer, and will to the best of my ability serve you, as I would any other individual who called upon me. It is my trade, or profession, to advocate that cause in which I am retained; and although I rejoice when I find I am on the right side, I have in common with my brethren, no scruples in doing battle on the wrong."
And so they parted. It may perhaps be thought unnatural that Willis should have acted in the way he did; but he was a shrewd, worldly wise man, and could make any sacrifice to promote what he deemed his interests. Now he had not forgiven, much less forgot. On the contrary, his hatred of Heywood was deep and concentrated; but he knew him to possess talents that were formidable when opposed to him, and on which he could with safety rely when enlisted in his behalf.
The transactions of business necessarily carried Heywood to his client's house, where one day being detained until the dinner hour, he was introduced to Miss Louisa Willis, an exceedingly beautiful and interesting lady of about eighteen. He was much struck with her, and indeed it was impossible for the coldest disposition to withhold its admiration from charms seldom surpassed, and then in the very fulness of their bloom. With a form over whose round and soft proportions hovered an atmosphere of the most soul subduing voluptuousness, she was the possessor of a countenance, whose features in themselves almost faultless, habitually wore the bewitching expression of confiding love; as if for all she looked upon, there existed in her bosom a living spring of kindness; and the consciousness of her own deep charities, taught her to expect a like return from others. She was the adopted daughter of Willis. Her parents, poor but highly respectable people, died while she was yet an infant, having been carried off within a few hours of each other, by one of those pestilential fevers that sweep whole districts of our country, and leave in their path the silence of death or the sob of mourning anguish, where the sounds of merriment had been wont to break upon the ear. Willis was alone in the world. There was no human being connected with him by the ties of consanguinity: there was not one whom he had propitiated by the exercise of kindness: and although the consciousness that he was hated only served to harden and imbitter his feelings, there were moments when he felt the loneliness of his situation, and longed for something that even he could love.
He took the little orphan to his home, and in her found the object he had sought. Upon her he lavished all his bounty—bestowed upon her the best education the capabilities of the country afforded—and at a proper age, placed her in an eligible seminary in the city of ——, whence indeed, at the time of Heywood's first interview with her, she had just returned.—Perhaps the disposition of Miss Willis—that of great sweetness with very little energy or passion, was particularly calculated to win upon such a man as Heywood. Himself all passion, burning with the consciousness of uncommon powers, urged into action by the ever goading stimulus of a brain that teemed with strong and beautiful thought,—now breaking out into commanding eloquence—now running over with sparkling wit,—it was enjoyment to him to find repose in another. His mind self taxed to its utmost limit, was refreshed, and soothed, and solaced by the calm and even purity which dwelt within that form of intoxicating loveliness. Perhaps with persons constituted like Heywood, the same ardor of passion might be exhibited towards any object, "in whose fresh cheek" they might "meet the power of fancy;" perhaps their glowing temperament would vest with beauty both of mind and person, those who to common eyes had nothing to distinguish them. Be this as it may, it is certain that he loved Miss Willis, deeply, devotedly, ardently—with tender delicacy and with manly passion. Whether his feelings were reciprocated by her, to the extent of which she was capable, it is not for me to say: that secret lies within her own bosom. Heywood thought so. He was constant in his attentions to her, which seemed to be well received, and were certainly encouraged by Willis. The only annoyance Heywood experienced, arose from his feelings towards the latter. Greater familiarity with his character had not, it is true, increased his abhorrence of it; perhaps it had diminished it;—for as the visual eye becomes accustomed to look without winking upon the disgusting and even the terrible, so does the mental, and sad to say, the constant recurrence of deeds of vice, lessens the sense of detestation which they at first inspired. But there was something very galling to his pride, in the idea of connecting himself in so close a manner with Willis as he must necessarily do, if he married his daughter; only his adopted daughter, it is true: but still in no action that could evince a parent's fondness and a parent's care, had he been wanting to her—and he was unquestionably entitled to a full return of that affection that might be looked for from a properly disposed child; and as certainly did he receive it from Miss Willis, whose respectful love for him was without stint or measure. The struggle between pride and passion, seldom eventuates in favor of the former, particularly where our feelings are uninfluenced by the effect our actions may produce upon the minds of others, and have no reference to a degrading change of situation that may be produced on us in society. Heywood might by marrying Miss Willis, excite the sneers of the unsuccessful and the envy of the disappointed; but he would not be the less loved, esteemed and respected by the great bulk of his acquaintance, while by many it would be thought a fortunate circumstance; for in the event of their obligations falling into his hands, they might look for an indulgence it were vain to hope from the ruthless usurer. Heywood, as might be expected, yielded to the suggestions of his heart, and proffered his affections to Miss Willis. She of course referred him to her father; and with much embarrassment and hesitation of manner, Heywood announced to him the fact, and solicited his approbation. He received the information with a smile of peculiar meaning, of gratification—but apparently of malicious gratification, as if he were about to win a triumph he had been long seeking to obtain. He said but little however in reply, nor was that little, discouraging or otherwise. He professed himself honored by the proposal, coming as it did from so distinguished an individual.
"To be sure," he said, "Louisa Willis was not an every day sort of girl, and she might fairly look for as good offers as any lady in the country. She had that, or she would have, which was all the same, that would command them. It commanded every thing else, he reckoned, even talents. She was young enough too, and likely enough, for the matter of that, and he had had other views for her. Hows'ever, there was no hurry—he would see about it; he must have some little time to think before he made up his mind: when he had, he would let Heywood know what it was."
To talk to such a man of the urgency of one's affections, was ridiculous. Heywood felt it so, and therefore made no objection to the delay.