He was still without funds to meet his acceptance. Many other debts were pressing upon him; and he felt that in a few months his plantation must be sold, and he left a ruined man. But, as the drowning wretch clutches at the feeblest straw, or the frailest plank, so he clung to the hope furnished by delay. "Once more," he muttered, as he leaned his head upon his hands in the attitude of despair, "once more must I humiliate myself to this low-minded wretch, and beg the delay which he may grant or refuse, as it pleases his base nature. Heaven help me, I little dreamed that Gerald Leslie would ever come to sue to Silas Craig." At this moment a cheerful-looking negro entered the apartment, bearing a card upon a silver salver. "Massa Craig, please massa," he said. "Tell him to walk in." "Into this room, massa?" "Yes, Caesar." The negro departed, and in a few moments returned, ushering in a fat man, of about fifty years of age, dressed in the loose and light-colored coat and trousers, fashionable in New Orleans. This summer costume, which was becoming to many, accorded ill with the fat and awkward figure of Silas Craig. The loose open collar displayed a bull neck that bespoke the brute force of a sensual nature. It was almost impossible to imagine a more truly repulsive appearance than that of the usurer of New Orleans; repulsive, not so much from natural ugliness, as from that hidden something, dimly revealed beneath the outward features that told the nature of the man, and caused the close observer and the physiognomist to shrink from him with instinctive abhorrence. Cruelty leered out of the small rat-like gray eyes; hypocrisy and sensuality alike were visible in the thick lips and wide animal mouth. The usurer's hair, of a reddish yellow, was worn long, parted in the middle, and pushed behind his ears, giving a sanctimonious expression to his face. For it must be known to the reader that Silas Craig had always contrived to preserve a character for great sanctity. His voice was loudest in expressing horror at the backslidings of others; his presence was unfailing at the most frequented places of worship; and men who knew that the usurer would strip the widow or the orphan of the utmost farthing, or the last rag of clothing, beheld him drop his dollars into the plate at the close of every charity sermon. By such pitiful artifices as these the world is duped, and Silas Craig was universally respected in New Orleans; respected in outward seeming by men who in their inmost soul loathed and execrated him. With a bland smile, he obeyed Gerald Leslie's gesture, and seated himself in a low rocking-chair, opposite the planter. "Charming weather, Mr. Leslie," he said. "Charming," answered Gerald, absently.