"Very well, sir, very well, we'll drop the matter then--I don't care much about it; only you aint as much _my_ friend as I thought you was--that's all. But let that pass, it don't signify no great deal. And now Mr. Heywood, for what you would call a more interesting subject." Heywood's heart beat quick. "You told me t'other day you loved my daughter, and would like to marry her. Now, sir, suppose you had a daughter, and you could afford to give her as much as would make the best men in all the land snap at her--and suppose there was one man who despised you in his heart, though he was willing to work for your money, and who had abused and insulted you in the public court, and refused to befriend you, in a small way, when you wanted his friendship, and _he_ of all men in the world was just to pop up and say, Give me your daughter and a fortune,--what would you say to him? Would'nt you tell him, certain, and thankee to boot, sir? Would'nt it please you to the heart to have a son-in-law, who if he could help himself, would'nt speak to you when he met you, nor shake hands with you, if there was any body by to see him do it? Now just answer me that, Mr. Heywood; you're a mighty ready man with your bills and answers--answer me that if you please." "Mr. Willis," stammered Heywood, "this is not--a fair way to--treat me." "Aint it? Now I think it is--so there we differ again; any how it's my way, and I can afford to have my ways as well as most folks. Hows'ever, since you don't seem to fancy those questions, I'll try again. Do you _really_ love my daughter, for herself alone mind you, and will you marry her if I tell you, and I am in earnest, that if you do, you never shall, nor she either, touch a farthing of money or an acre of land that belongs to me." "Most readily, most willingly, and think myself but too happy in maintaining her by my own humble efforts." "Money is not a thing to be despised, Mr. Heywood, and it would be a heap of it I can tell you, and as you partly know, that you would be giving up; you'd better think again." "This is not a matter of reflection and calculation with me, sir. It is a feeling deep and durable, and I cannot hesitate to choose between what I esteem my happiness and my misery. With her, portioned or unportioned, I shall be happy--without her, though Croesus' wealth were showered on me, I know I must be miserable."